Random Harvest
by HollyGolightly
Summary: AU. Repost. Better written. Harry Potter lost all memory of his past. Wandering out of an asylum, he meets Hermione and falls in love. They live happily until an accident makes Harry remember his past while forgetting his new found life with Hermione
1. Smith

A/N: The plot is based on the movie Random Harvest 1942, with Greer Garson and Ronald Coleman. The characters are from J.K Rowling's series Harry Potter.

Summary:

Alternate Universe. After the final duel with Voldemort, Harry Potter, an Auror, was found in a ditch, having lost all memory and all connections with his past. Amidst the noise of the post war celebrations, Harry meets Hermione, a music hall actress and falls in love. On a trip alone, he is involved in an accident that allows his original memory to return but now remembers nothing at all about his new life. Please read and review!

Caveat: This is a completely different take on Harry Potter. In this story, Harry and Hermione have never met each other. They did not attend Hogwarts together and Harry is not the famous boy-who-lived. No one knows his identity including himself, he is referred as Harry, but everyone else for the first part refers to him as Smith.

Random Harvest

Chapter One: Smith

The war against Voldemort finally switched tides. Voldemort himself was defeated and never to be seen again. After the ultimate duel, the man victorious, Harry Potter, had also disappeared. No one knew what happened during the finally moments of conflict.

Our story takes place in the English Midlands, the Melbridge County Asylum, its new Auror wing, to house the shatter minds of those in the war against Voldemort.

"Now, Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd, I must warn you, even if he is your son, he may not recognize you. His memory is affected, he struggle with his speech, the result of shock. We found him unconscious near the old Riddle house in a ditch, near death, the same year that Voldemort was defeated. He has no means of identification. When he returned to consciousness at St. Mungos, he could remember nothing at all of his past life, no name, no family with whom he could correspond. Six months ago, he was sent here. I sincerely hope that he is your son. I believe he could be cured, with patience and care, in normal surroundings." Dr. Krum explained.

"May we see him now?" asked Mrs. Lloyd.

"Certainly, but please Mrs. Lloyd, don't hope too much, I've seen many disappointments." Dr. Krum stood up from his chair and went into the next room.

After greeting the patients along the way, he made his way to the other side of the room where a raven-haired man with green eyes was staring blankly out window.

"Smith, you're looking better. Really improved. We have some news for you. Interested?" Dr. Krum asked.

The man turned to look at the doctor.

"There are some people to see you. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd. Ring a bell?"

"Ll-Ll-Lloyd, Lloyd", Harry stuttered.

"Lloyd", Dr. Krum repeated, "Lloyd. Name means anything to you? Their son was reported missing just around the same time you were."

Harry, with a look of concentration tried hard to remember.

"Don't bring your hopes up old boy, you may be their son, you may not. We'll soon know" Dr. Krum warned him.

"M-m-my parents?" he uttered hopefully.

"You see my boy? You speak well enough if you want to. It's just a matter of confidence. You just got to get back your confidence" Dr. Krum waved his hand to summon his assistant.

"My father?" Harry tried to continue.

"Dress him up a bit and take him to the reception room," he ordered.

"Very well," the assistant replied, "Come along Smith" he said as he took the patient by the arm and led him to the next room.

After dressing him up in his old Auror uniform, the assistant led Harry into the reception room and instructed him to sit down.

"I-If-If" Harry stuttered, "if.."

"If they are your parents?" the assistant finished for him.

"Th-Th-Th-they would .ta-ta-take-take me out of h-h-here?" Harry asked.

"That's rather a big if old man," the assistant said grimly as he left the room.

Harry sat in an empty room waiting, anticipating for those about to receive him. He pondered at the possibility of belonging to someone. It made him very happy. "Lloyd. Lloyd. Lloyd" he concentrated on the name over and over again hoping to trigger some meaning, but without avail.

After a few minutes, he could hear footsteps along the concrete corridor. Through the window, he could see silhouettes of three figures heading towards the door. Smith, alerted, straightened up.

He could hear voices as the door slowly opened. Dr. Krum and an elderly couple walked in. Mrs. Lloyd's facial expression changed from a look of hope to a look of despair as soon has she made eye contact with Harry.

Dr. Krum, observed her reaction, turned to Mr. Lloyd. "He is not your son then?"

The old man solemnly shook his head as his wife, unable to contain her emotions, cried into her husband's shoulder.

"I'm sorry" Dr Krum said sorrowfully. "I'm sincerely sorry."

Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd walked out the door. Dr. Krum followed them, but before he closed the door behind him, he gave his patient a sympathetic look, "I told you my boy, not to count on it."

A few moments after this horrible ordeal, Harry in his most sullen mood, decided to take a walk around the asylum. This was his usual remedy for feeling down. Large concrete walls surround the asylum itself. Today, the weather was incredibly foggy, but Harry never minds.

"Out in this weather?" the guard asked as Harry walked passed him, "My, you do love those walks don't you?"

He turned to acknowledge him, but was unable to speak. Without answering, he continued his path. His favorite pastime was thinking and practicing on his speech ability during because no one was around to bother him. "I'm alright, thank you" he muttered to himself, "The coat's very warm...like to walk. Like to walk."

Harry stuffed his hands into his coat pocket and kept walking down the stone path. All of a sudden, he heard a loud siren at the gate soon to be in front of him. "The war is over!" he heard someone cry out, "The last of the Deatheaters have surrendered!"

At the gate, he could see men running in, with shouts of joy, "The war is OVER!" The men didn't even notice Harry making his way down the road. With all the excitement, they ran right past him, leaving the asylum gate open.

Harry saw the opportunity and strolled casually through without being stopped. If they catch him, he thought, he'd pretend to be confused. He had no idea where he was going anyways. He kept walking down the road until he reached the nearby town.

Melbridge was in a complete uproar. Shouts of joy were heard all over the place. As Harry past the buildings, he can see people recognizing his uniform; they would smile at him, thank him appreciatively and give him a big pat on the back. Being his first time away from the asylum alone, his nerves were cracking. Unable to withstand the complete and utter chaos, Smith slipped into the first shop he could find.

The bell attached to the door rang startled him as he walked in. He found himself inside a quaint little tobacco shoppe. An elderly woman came out the back room and greeted him.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

Harry stood frozen. This is his first encounter without supervision of doctors. He didn't even know if he smoked.

"Well? What is it that you want?" she asked him again sternly, "Come on. I haven't got all night!"

"Cigarettes?" Smith managed to squeak out. He tried to control himself and to stop looking so obviously frightened.

"What sort?" the shopkeeper examined him, looking quite annoyed.

Harry pretended to look intensely at a display case.

The woman observed him fixedly and suddenly realized, "Why, you're from the asylum! You're..That's alright dear, take your time, take a nice look around see, I'll be back in a jiffy." The shopkeeper smiled meekly and went into the backroom.

Harry stared at the now empty doorway.

"You are from the asylum, aren't you?" he turned around and spotted a beautiful woman with cinnamon hair and deep brown eyes looking at him. He wasn't sure if she had just walked in or if she had been there the entire time.

Harry stared back at her intently. He could see she was not at all frightened but merely curious.

"Well aren't you?" she asked again.

"Yes" he replied, "But..but..I'm alright…really."

"Well if you have given them the slip, I wouldn't stay here. She's calling for them right now, to get you." The girl opened the door for him.

Harry hesitated for a second before walking out the door. He turned right and continued to walk down the street while trying to avoid the massive crowds who were still screaming and celebrating this joyous occasion. Finally, after being herded around like cattle on the street and ducking various times, he found a small narrow passage to the side where he could take a breather.

Grabbing a hold of the side railing, he tried to collect himself. He heard a familiar voice speaking behind him, "Can I help you? I saw you weren't feeling too fit, so I followed you. You don't mind do you?"

Harry recognized the same girl that was in the tobacco shoppe. Her voice was soothing and he could not help but smile at her. He shook his head no.

"You looked tired out. Been walking about for hours?" she asked, giving him a comforting smile.

He nodded.

"Well how about a drink, just to pull you together?" she offered, "I could have one. Should we go to the home pub? It's just across the street. It's where we all stay when our show is in town. It's not the Ritz or anything like that, but it's friendly." She took his arm and led him across the street.

As they enter the Melbridge Arms, they can hear music all around them. The piano emitting a cheerful jig while in the middle of the pub, people were laughing and singing heartily while dancing around in circles to the tunes of harmonicas and flutes. As they made their way across to the bar, people stopped to greet them. "Hey Mione!" someone on the dance floor called out.

"Hi there Hermione!" Another man on the sideline greeted her.

"Hey!" she waved, "That's our character woman Luna," she explained to Harry, "And that's our manager Lee Jordan. He's a dear really"

"Hello Hermione!' The man sitting on one of the stools at the bar welcomed them cheerfully.

"Hey Ernie" Hermione smiled

"Have a drink!" Ernie looked at Harry and patted him on the back. "And an Auror too!"

"There you see?" Hermione gently tapped Harry's arm. "You're amongst friends!"

As they sat, they can hear the barkeep, a bald, stout cheerful looking man talking to the audience at the bar.

"He was game! The gunner was. Halfway through the 10th, he ran right into me right hook." He waved his hand dramatically "Forgot his name and address. You don't win fights with your hands and feet." The barkeep pointed to the picture hanging behind him of a short boxer with his arm victoriously in the air while by his feet, another man was lying completely knocked out on the ground. "You win them with your brains!" he finished. "That's what got me to the top!" with that, the barkeep headed towards them.

"Well, what's it going to be Mione. It's on the house," the barkeep offered generously.

"Why thank you Tom!" Hermione replied, " I'll have a butterbeer, and can I have a firewhiskey for my friend here?"

"My pleasure my dear." Tom examined Harry intently. "Looks as though he could use one. Feeling bad?" he asked him.

"No no..I-I" Smith tried to respond.

"He's just tired, that's all" Hermione answered for him.

"Not the flu is it?" Tom asked, "Dying like flies at the hospital they've been."

"That's right, cheer him up" Hermione said sardonically, "Know anymore funny stories?"

"I was only passing a remark," said Tom as he retrieved the drinks, "It's a free country now that You-Know-Who is gone."

"Well pass him a free drink!" she told him, "That'll do him all good"

"Here it is" Tom handed Hermione a bottle. "And here is a touch of the good stuff that is," he said as he handed Harry a shot glass. "Bring anyone back from the grave.'

"My you are just a ray of sunshine today aren't you Tom?" Hermione said teasingly as she took a sip of her Butterbeer.

"Hey Hermione! Don't be late" Lee Jordan called out as he left the pub.

"No I won't Lee," Hermione replied. The two quickly downed their drinks before getting up to leave.

"I got to get over to the theatre." Hermione told him, "Thanks for the free drinks Tom! Shall we go?" She took Harry by the arm again and walked out the door.

Behind them, they could hear Tom announce proudly, "Well there goes one of the heroes. He's one of the men who done it!"

Harry and Hermione made their way into the street. She shook his hand and held it. "Well I must get over to the theatre. I'm cutting a bit close. It doesn't seem very friendly running away after this. What are you going to do?"

"I'll..be alright" Harry smiled politely, not wanting to trouble her any longer.

"You sure?" Hermione took a hold of his arm again. "Listen, how would you like to see the show? You can sit at my dressing room. You can see the stage from the balcony. They'll be no one there to bother you there. Then we can have a good chat afterwards, just you and I? To settle what is to be done? Good?" Smith smiled at her gratefully and nodded. "Good!" she said as he allowed her to lead him down the street.


	2. The Show

Chapter Two: The Show

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting all this time." Hermione called out from behind the screen in her dressing room. "I'll be just a minute!"

Harry was sitting near the dressing table taking in his new surroundings. Hermione's dressing room was more like a large walk-in closet with many colorful and interesting outfits hanging everywhere. A large Victorian patterned screen took up the most room.

After a few moments, Hermione popped out from behind the screen wearing a traditional Scottish outfit complete with a short pleated skirt. She gave Harry a hearty salute.

"Well? How do you like me? Or don't you?" Hermione asked him playfully.

Harry gave her a small nod. Hermione smiled and sat down at the chair opposite from him.

"Good! Now talk to me. Why did you give them the slip up at the hospital? You don't like the place?" Hermione tilted her head, waiting for him to speak, "Well surely you ought not to be there. Well answer me! Cat got your tongue?" Hermione teased. She looked at him attentively and urged with a face of concern, "Come on," she pleaded, "make an effort."

"I'm alright really- my speech. Its just..nerves." Smith managed to utter.

"Well there now, you see? You're doing splendidly" Hermione encouraged.

"Yes, I wasn't so bad then, was I?" He relaxed a bit.

"I should say not"

"You don't know what a job I had trying," Harry told her, slightly grinning.

"Oh I could guess. I heard you back at the shop. Why that old witch could scare anybody," Hermioen laughed.

"There's another thing. I-I-I've lost my memory. I don't even know who I am."

"Well I know who you are, you're someone awfully nice." Hermione replied, "What did they call you at that place?"

"Smith," he answered, "But that's not my real name. What's yours?"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger. But that's not my real name either" she joked. "Wished it wasn't anyways. Although, I've always liked the name Paula," she pondered for a minute before focusing back on Harry, "Look here Smithy, you don't mind if I called you Smithy?"

He shook his head. Something about her made him feel comfortable and safe.

"Can't be good for you up there among all those poor souls. You can't be happy. And how are ever going to get better if you're not happy?"

"Perhaps I shouldn't be very happy anywhere just now," said Harry glumly.

"But Smithy! The war's over! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Hermione realized and frowned "Oh, I'm just silly, don't take any notice. The day, so splendid for most of us, and so sad for some. Why does it have to be all foggy and wet, when it should be full of sunshine!" She rambled on, "Oh never mind Smithy. We've met anyway haven't we? Have you no friends? No parents you can trace? Well have you tried?"

"Some people came to see me at the hospital, but I wasn't their son." Smith recalled sadly.

"I bet they were disappointed"

"Yes, I think so. I was too." Smith remembered, "I would have liked to belong to them."

"Oh Smithy" Hermione cried as she stood up from her seat. "You're ruining my make up." She spun around and wiped her face in the mirror. "My how you do chatter"

"Yes. I seem to have rather talked a lot," Harry noticed, surprised at himself.

"Oh that's me, I always bring people out." Hermione told him, "Much too fast sometimes."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Granger!" Someone shouted from the other side.

"Alright, thank you!" Hermione yelled back. She pushed her chair out. "Well I have to go perform now." She opened the door. "Smithy look, I'll put your chair outside. Come along." She dragged the chair out to the balcony and sat him down. "Now you can see the front of the stage from here. Nobody would bother you here. I'll be back in a couple of shakes. Are you alright?"

"Fine" said Harry, settling in his chair.

Hermione was hesitant to leave his side. She ran towards the stairs still facing him. At the last moment, she came back and asked "Sure?" She felt his forehead. "Seems kind of hot," she observed.

The music was getting louder. "Mione!" Ernie shouted from backstage.

Hermione quickly ran down to the stage.

Meanwhile, Harry sat still. His eyes never left Hermione. As she performed her act, he noticed a certain glow about her and he was intrigued. The cheering of crowd full of locals and Aurors in the audience only confirmed the fact.

Suddenly, a cold chill succumb him. As the show went on, Harry was unable to ignore the dizzy feeling that came over him. In a matter of minutes, Harry collapsed on the floor.


	3. The Flu

Chapter Three: The Flu

It wasn't until after the show when they found Harry's body lying on the floor. Hermione alerted Tom and the both of them carried him into Hermione's room. She tucked him gently in bed. Summoning a bowl of cold water and a towel, Hermione sat down beside him carefully placed the soaked towel on his forehead.

"I knew the minute I seen him, he had the flu," said Tom.

"Tom," Hermione whispered, "There's something I need to tell you. He's from the county asylum."

"No!" the barkeep gasped. "How?"

"But he's alright really. He would have been discharged if he had a home to go to," she explained, "You don't think they'll come after him do you?"

"Any busybody comes snooping after him; I'll give him what I gave the gunner!" He held up his fist in a threatening manner.

"Tom, you're a darling" Hermione sighed in relief as she walked him out the door.

"He's a gentleman he is. Liked him the first minute I trapped eyes on him" Tom glanced at him once more before closing the door.

Hermione stood there for a second. Suddenly, Harry turned slightly on the bed.

"I...alright...just my speech...I can't remember." He shook profusely, still delirious from his fever.

Hermione ran beside him and held his hand. "Rest now Smithy. You mustn't talk."

Harry opened his eyes slightly. "I'm not like the others...I'm not like them. I'm alright."

"Yes Smithy, you're alright." Hermione coaxed, rubbing his arm gently.

He looked into her eyes. "But I..I can't go back...If I go back...I'll never come out...I'll be like the others!" He tried to get up.

"You shan't go back Smithy. I won't let you go back. Rest now" Hermione tucked him in again. She gently brushed his forehead. "Rest Smithy. Go to sleep."

Harry relaxed and closed his eyes. He quickly fell into a deep slumber. Hermione stayed with him through the night, not taking her eyes off of him.

After a few days, his fever subsided. Hermione continued to nurse him until he got his strength back. After every show, she would go grab a tray of food from downstairs and have supper with him. They would continue to have their little talks and just enjoying each other's company. Harry improved with his speech and would stutter less frequently.

"How did the show go?" Harry asked.

"Oh splendidly. It's the last night. Glad to get rid of us I suppose," she chuckled, "How did you get on?"

"I-I-I talked to the chambermaid today. Hmm. Quite a chatter."

"You did? Wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, "What about?"

"The weather."

Hermione laughed, "You are coming on," she looked around the room, "I see you're all packed, so am I. Our train leaves at one o clock."

"Mione" Smith asked, "You're sure I can be useful? Your manager isn't just taking me on just because y-y-you asked him"

"Good gracious, you don't know Lee; he's as hard as nails," Hermione flashed a reassuring smile, "No, you can take my word for it; the whole thing was his idea."

"I can't tell you what it means Mione." Harry confessed gratefully, "To be someone again. To be wanted. It's all your doing."

Hermione blushed, "How you do run on. There's no stopping you once you started." She abruptly stood up, "Now you just eat your supper, I just need to run down stairs. I'll be up in time to get you for the train."

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Hermione made her way downstairs and sat down next to Lee at the bar.

"The usual?" Tom asked.

"Please Tom." She turned to her manager. "Lee! He's pleased as punch. I wish you could've heard him. You are an angel."

"Oh that's alright Mione." Lee replied.

"It's given him confidence just knowing that he's wanted. That's all he needs to get well," she told him excitedly.

"Here you are," Tom set her drink down on the bar.

"Thank you," she replied. The two friends drank to each other's health.

Just then, the door opened and a short man adorned in a heavy cloak walked in.

"Evening Mr. Flint. What'll it be?" Tom greeted him.

"Half and Half, and rush it would you? They've been watching me like a hawk at the hospital after Wandistice day (You know, like Armistice day? Get it? Good :) He propped himself up on the bar.

"Why?" asked Tom.

"One of our loonies stripped off in the fog, while I was supposed to be watching the gate. Got clean away, uniform and all!" he explained.

At the bar, Hermione and Lee were exchanging silent glances.

"No, really? But you got him back didn't you?" Tom asked.

"Not yet, but we shall."

"What sort of a bloke?" Tom inquired as he handed him his drink.

Hermione abruptly got up from her stool and started to walk into the dining room. "It's getting late"

"Tallish, dark haired, shuffles a bit, can't get his words out. Always saying something different." Flint replied.

Hermione paused to listen.

"He's not dangerous I suppose?" asked Tom.

"Oh there's no saying with loonies, quiet as mice for weeks and all of a sudden, up and after you with a wand yelling hexes left and right."

"Lee, I'm going into supper, Are you coming?" Hermione became anxious.

"Just a minute, Hermione," he told her, still listening carefully to the conversation at hand.

"Luna? You coming?" she asked.

"Coming." Luna said as she followed her into the dinner room.


	4. To The Country We Will Go

Chapter Four: To The Country We Will Go

Smith was sitting down on his bed staring into space when a knock on the door broke his trance. He got up as Hermione walked into the room.

"Its time isn't it? Nearly twelve thirty," said Harry anxiously.

"Smithy-" Hermione started to say.

"I'm all ready," he showed her his already packed satchel.

"Sit down a minute would you?" Hermione said with a serious expression.

"There's nothing...wrong, is there?" Smith asked nervously.

"Smithy, I've got to talk to you," she motioned him to sit down. "I won't beat around the bush. Lee won't take you."

"Wo-wo-won't take me?" he sat himself next to her.

"There was a man from the asylum in the bar just now. He told everybody about your escape. Lee feels its too risky taking you." she sighed, "I think perhaps he's right. I think perhaps you should go back to the asylum. Until you're all well again, and then-"

"Go----go-back?" Harry looked away, and resumed his trancelike state.

"It is best Smithy, you need care and doctors that understand your case. I feel dreadful about it, but it's for your sake. Lee wants to help but he said I have no right to take you. Says I'd be risking your sanity, your life perhaps. You do understand don't you?"

He nodded weakly, trying to process everything.

"You're not angry with me? You don't think I've gone back on you? Its not that I'm afraid, it's because I think its right. They were all against me, all of them. They couldn't have made me do it if I didn't think it was right. You do know that don't you?" Hermione pleaded,"Tell me you understand, that you're not angry with me, but tell me, let me hear you say it, speak to me Smithy! You can always speak to me. Speak to me!"

"I-I-I.." he tried to speak. Hermione focused into his eyes, but he turned away.

She nodded and raised her eyebrows. "Wait for me Smithy." She quickly stood up and walked out of the room. Harry didn't move an inch while she was gone. He was busy collecting his thoughts. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs again. Hermione entered with her coat on, holding her suitcase."

"Come on Smithy" she said, handing him his cloak, "Get your cloak on, I know I'm right, I know it. I'm ashamed in myself for letting them talk me out of it. Here let me help you." She hastily clasped the clock around him. "We have to hurry. Don't you worry Smithy, we can't go with the others, but we'll find some quiet place so you can rest and get fit. Here take your bag, we'll go by the back door."

The two of them made their way down the stairs. "Look Smithy, I've got to see Tom. You go down that way." She instructed, pointing to the door next to him. "And don't let anyone see you. There's a door leading to the alley. Wait for me outside. I'll only be a minute."

Harry exited out the door as Hermione worked her way to the bar.

"Tom?" she called his attention. She spotted him by the window and went to him. "Here's the money for my bill."

"Running off already?" he asked.

"They want to send Smithy back to the asylum."

"No!" he gasped.

"But I'm not going to let him go, I'm taking him into the country." Hermione stated adamantly.,

"Giving up your job?"

"I'll let you know when we get settled," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "Will you send my trunk on to me?"

"You bet and good luck to you", he shook her hand.

"Thanks Tom, you're one in a million," she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Good luck to you!" Tom repeated.

"Bye, take care!" Hermione hurried off to meet up Harry.

Hermione opened the door and gasped. She found Lee lying completely knocked out cold on the floor and Harry standing beside him, a look of panic on his pale face. She turned behind her to see if anyone saw anything before shutting the door.

"Smithy! What have you done?"

"H-H-He-He," Harry stammered.

"Tried to stop you?" she asked.

"Yes... I ...pushed him and ...he fell."

"Lee! Lee!" Hermione shook the unconscious Lee gently, "Oh if they catch you now, we're done for!"

"I'm no good, let me alone!" Harry protested.

"No I won't." Hermione told him stubbornly.

"We...We can't just leave him"

"We must! We'll think later. Come!" She grabbed him immediately and shoved him out the exit.

They didn't say a word to each other until they got on the train.

"Bad luck the station master recognized me at Melbridge," said Hermione, "They may wire ahead to Camphor to stop us. Well we won't go on to Camphor. We'll get out at Swinton junction. From there we can go to the West Country, on to Devon, or Cornwell. We'll choose a little country place quiet and lovely."


	5. The Inn

A/N: Keep the reviews coming. Good or bad, it's nice to know someone is reading this. I know the dialogue is a bit old-fashioned. It was from the 40s you know, what can you expect?

Chapter Five: The Inn

After switching trains a few times, they decided to make their way into Devon, a small-secluded village in the countryside. The mist lifted as they strolled down the small stone path and they could see the beautiful landscape ahead. The trees, although bare moved gently with the breeze.

"It's the end of the world, out here, lonely and lovely. We'll be safe here. Even if ---" Hermione cuts herself off, before saying, "We'll phone first, then we'll see."

They made their way inside a quaint little inn. A small-furnished lobby with a lighted fireplace greeted them.

Hermione heard footsteps coming down the stairs. An elderly man and an old woman came into view.

"Alright Mrs. Devanter, you can come down a couple of hours tomorrow, and I'll look in on Friday." The old man told her as he walked out the door, "Goodbye"

"Thank you doctor, goodbye" she called back. She directed her attention to her newly arrived guests. "Morning madam"

"Morning," Hermione said.

"Sorry I wasn't down, were you wanting rooms?" Mrs. Devanter asked as she took her place behind the front desk.

"Well that depends," she answered, "May I use your telephone?"

"Certainly, it's in there." She gestured her head toward the phone booth behind them, "You just turn the handle."

"Thank you," Hermione hesitated when she took notice of Mrs. Devanter staring at the man beside her. "Smithy, come and sit down you look worn out." She took him by the arm and led him to the couch by the fire.

"Eh, he does look poorly, the poor dear!" Mrs. Devanter observed, staring after him.

Hermione stepped into the telephone booth, picked up the receiver and turned the crank. "Operator? I like to make a trunk call please. Melbridge 4-2- 9-9. Thank you."

Tom was sweeping the floor when the phone started to ring. He ran over and picked it up. "Hello? Hello? Hello Mione! No no, he's alright, come to it in a jiffy, buying a bump on his head. Big as apple it was. That fella of yours must've give him what I gave the gunner!"

"What?" Hermione sighed in relief, as if a heavy burden has been lifted, "A bump? Oh, Tom don't make me laugh, I'll go into hysterics." She grinned, "Oh, I see, oh he is an angel, and so are you! Do you mind if I rush off now and tell Smithy? A thousand thanks darling, good bye!" She dashed out of the phone booth as fast as she could. "Smithy! Smithy it's alright! Isn't it wonderful? Lee's alright! Now you have nothing to worry about, nothing! Lee's being awfully decent about it, he says it was just an accident and-"

"An accident?" Mrs. Devanter asked, overhearing their conversation.

Hermione turned to her. "Oh, it's a friend of ours who's had a bad fall, we were terribly worried about him, but he's alright," she lied quickly, "And we would like to stay, that is, if you would have us."

"Well I've got a nice double front, sun comes in all day," she suggested, "Just a thing for your husband after the flu."

"Well, ummm" Hermione blushed and looked to Harry, "He's not my husband," she replied, "Not yet, I mean, we're just sort of engaged."

"Oh" Mrs. Devanter said, "Well, I've got two nice rooms adjoining. With hot and cold and a view of the lake," she told them, "If you'd like to come up."

"Oh Smithy, isn't it wonderful?" She sat down next to him, "I'm so thankful, I was so terribly worried. And all you have to do is to get well," Hermione flashed him a comforting smile, "And you will get well won't you? In this lovely place. Well, say it. Let me hear you say it."

Smith smiled back at her, "I will...I will"

"I had to tell her we were engaged. You don't mind don't you?" she asked him, slightly embarrassed.

"I thought you was behind me!" Mrs. Devanter called out from the stairs, "Don't you want to see the rooms?"

"Oh I'm sorry, yes of course, we're just coming!" Harry and Hermione got up and followed her up the stairs.

A few months went by quickly. The peaceful ambiance of their surroundings allowed Harry to recover, gaining his confidence and completely eliminating his stutter. They would spend their days hiking around the hills, biking, picnicking and fishing around the lake.

Today, Harry was taking a nap beside the lake with his fishing pole still in the water. Hermione rode up to him on her bike. She picked up her lunch basket and an envelope and sat down next to him. She held out the envelope before realizing he was still asleep. She hesitated for a minute before deciding not to wake him. Curiously, she tried holding up the letter to the sun to catch a glimpse of the contents inside. Frustrated, she got up and started shaking the envelope.

"If I were you I'd open it" Harry grinned as he looked up at her.

"Oh Smithy, you are a fraud," She turned around and punched him playfully on the shoulder, "I was dying of curiosity. It's from the Daily Prophet." She handed him the letter.

"I say, so it is, Daily Prophet, Managing editor, Samuel C. Henson. Liverpool," he read aloud.

"Must be about that article you sent."

"Yes, I suppose it could be."

"Well what did he say? Open it Smithy!" said Hermione impatiently.

He laughed, amused by her eagerness as he tore open the letter. He exclaimsed "It's a cheque! It's a small cheque, but it's a cheque!"

"I don't believe it, let me look!" she snatched the piece of paper from his hand. "Oh! Aren't you just terribly happy?"

"Yes I am, it means a lot," said Harry.

"I'm proud of you Smithy!"

"Didn't know you had an author in your hands did you?" Harry teased.

"Oh yes I did, I knew you were good, I'm really not a bit surprised!" she turned away, trying to look uninterested. She opened the basket and started setting up their picnic lunch.

"You think I can send another?" he asked.

"Another and another and another, lots of them!" She unfolded the tablecloth on the ground. She paused before saying; "Smithy, I wonder if you were a writer before you-" she stopped herself, "before the war I mean."

"Yes I wondered that too," he told her.

"Aren't you terribly curious? About the past I mean?" she asked.

"Well I'd like to know, but the presents looking up." He grinned, his eyes never leaving her as he helped her set the plates.

"Suppose it all came back to you suddenly, and awfully grand, with all sorts of wonderful people," Hermione continued.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind a bit," said Harry nonchalantly.

"You might even be married Smithy, who knows?"

"Ah, nonsense!" he dismissed a little too quickly.

She glanced at him before reaching into the basket again. "Well how can you be so sure?"

"Well, because-," he stopped awkwardly, "Hermione, I wonder if I can make a living at writing," he said, changing the subject.

"Of course you could," she replied without hesitation.

"Make a regular income. Be independent," he continued.

"Why not?" she asked as she took out two bottles of butterbeer. "And I'm getting quite good at typewriting." she added, her tone a little higher than usual.

He shifted himself a little closer to her. "Hermione," he said nervously, suddenly very interested in her hands, "I've fallen in love with you."

Hermione was wiping her hands with a cloth. He flinched slightly, anticipating her reaction. After a moment of silence, he looked up at her.

"No you haven't," she replied, convincing herself it was too good to be true, " You're just being a gentleman." Her face remained still but he could detect a certain spark in her eyes.

"Oh no I'm nothing of the sort," he answered, smiling. "I'm asking you to marry me. On a cheque for 10 sickle," he held out the slip of paper and chuckled.

"Smithy, don't ask me please," Hermione couldn't help but crack a smile, "I might take you up on it, I'm just that shameless."

"Mione," he gazed deeply into her eyes.

"I've run after you from the very beginning, you know I have," she confessed, "I've never let you out of my sight since the first time I saw you in that little shoppe."

"Never do it, Mione," Harry grabbed her hand.

"What?" she asked.

"Never leave me out of your sight. Never again"

"Oh Smithy!" She wiped away a tear, "You do mean it? You do want it? Really?"

"More than anything else in the world," he assured her, "My life began with you. I can't imagine the future without you."

"Oh, I better say yes quickly before you change your mind." she cried happily, "Its yes, darling."

"Ohhhh. Now I can relax" Smith sighed in relief, leaning back against the tree, 'Mmmmm..I'm hungry."

Hermione pouted at him, "Smithy!"

"Yes my dear?" He started caressing her arm, "What is it?"

She blushed slightly, looking away, "But darling, you proposed to me...and I've accepted you…"

Harry straightened up rapidly, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Smithy, do I always have to take the initiative? You were supposed to kiss me!"

"Ohhh" he laughed and with a quick swoop, scooped her into his lap. For a moment, they gazed intensely into one another. To them, they were the only ones in the world. She closed her eyes as he brought his lips to meet her's. Their first kiss to celebrate the beginning of a blissful union.


	6. O Perfect Love

Chapter Six: O Perfect Love

Their wedding took place at a small chapel on top of the hill. A plump looking woman, whom Harry was convinced, must've been completely tone deaf played and sang "O Perfect Love" on the organ. Every time she would squeak a high note, he could not help but flinch. As the vicar walked by him, he could tell that he was also having the same thoughts.

So here he was, ready to be married to the most wonderful woman in the world. It was a small ceremony especially since neither of them had any friends in the area. A few locals whom Harry and Hermione became friendly acquaintances came to celebrate their happy union.

Harry now stood waiting at the altar, sweating nervously. He shifted his tie for the umpteenth time today. His brain was restless. A million thoughts were going through his mind, better known as the pre-wedding jitters. "What if she doesn't show up? What does she see in me? I hope I can make her happy." He kept dwelling on it over and over. But all thoughts ceased as he looked up again and saw Hermione walking down the aisle being led by the doctor.

His jaw dropped. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. Her dress was simple white with flowers embroidered on the collar and complimented by transparent sleeves. She finally looked up and gazed at him. He could see she was trying to contain the excitement herself. At that moment, he knew there was nothing in this world that could tear them away from each other.

After the ceremony, the doctor, the vicar and a few locals gave the newlyweds a ride to their new cottage. "Goodbye! Goodbye!" they all called out as Harry closed the door of the carriage.

"I'm so happy for you!" the tone-deaf woman cried as she took out a handkerchief.

"God bless you both!" chimed the vicar.

"Thanks again. Thank you. Thanks for all your kindness," they newlyweds waved graciously.

"Just a minute!" the doctor called out, reaching behind his seat, he pulled out a bottle of champagne with a ribbon on it, "Here take this."

"Doctor, no!" Harry protested.

"That's all right" the doctor insisted, "Keep it for the christening!" They all laughed joyously.

"Thank you so much," he accepted the bottle gratefully. "Goodbye!"

The carriage drove off down the street, leaving the two of them in front of a small little cottage surrounded by a picket fence.

Harry unlatched the gate and escorted Hermione through. As he closed the gate behind him, the hinge made a high pitch squeak.

"I must oil that hinge," he said.

Making their way in, Harry had to push aside the overgrown branch of their tree for them to cross through, "I must cut that back," he made a note to himself.

"Oh no darling, its so pretty!" said Hermione.

When they finally reached the door, Harry pulled out his key from his pocket and raised it into the air. "Home!" he announced dramatically. He unlocked the door and pushed it wide open.

"Home!" Hermione repeated happily.

Harry picked her up gently. Hermione giggled as he kissed her and carried her across the threshold.

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Months later...

The milkman appeared at the Smiths cottage to make his usual delivery in the morning, whistling happily to himself. As he was about to reach to ring the doorbell, Harry opened the door and stopped him.

"Shhhhhhh!" he hushed, gesturing behind him. The milkman acknowledged this and stopped whistling.

"Oh, is it today sir?" he asked.

"I think so," Harry replied anxiously.

"Have you got the nurse in?" he inquired.

"Three days ago," he replied, shaking his head, "Pretty trying, this business."

"I know how you feel sir." the milkman sympathized, "Been through it me self.'

"Did your wife suffer much?" asked Harry.

"Nah! Nothing to speak of. But me!" he exclaimed, "Crickey! Got any pain around you?"

"No."

"Lucky" the milkman whispered, as if saying it louder would invoke the disease, "Oh, I had something cruel last second. What they called, 'Synthetic pain', that's the scientific name."

"Right," Harry nodded with amusement.

"Oh I said I'd never face it again," he rolled his eyes, "But here I am with four and more bad news on the way!" he added, "Well, good luck to you sir!"

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That very night, Hermione went into labor. The same doctor who had seen Mrs. Devanter came over to perform the delivery. Harry was waiting in the living room fretfully and impatiently as he filled up his pipe again. He paced back and forth and back and forth until finally sat himself down beside the window. He didn't even doze for one bit. It wasn't until daybreak when the doctor finally came out of the bedroom.

"Its alright Smith" the doctor informed him excitedly, "She's out of danger now. It's been a hard fight, but she's made it. And you have a son!"

Harry stood still, trying to comprehend and process everything he's said.

"Come on! Pull yourself together!" The doctor grabbed his shoulders and shook him, "She's alright. Nothing in the world to worry you now! It's a boy, that's what you wanted, isn't it? Eight pounds of him too." The doctor patted him on the back, "Don't you want to see her? After all her trouble?"

Harry gave him a weak nod before he made his way into the bedroom. His eyes were tearing as he heard his son's cries for the very first time.


	7. Little John

Now thanks for reviewing. I like responding to you guys. Please stay with me on this. Again, Harry Potter is NOT the FAMOUS BOY who LIVED. He was unconscious, and has been transferred to many different areas in the country and interacting with people he's never met. This is why no one recognizes him. Just think of him as the regular run of the mill Auror who couldn't find his way home.

Chapter Seven: Little John

"Good morning!" Harry greeted the man behind the desk cheerfully, "I've dropped by to register a new subject!" He is now standing at the counter of the Registry of Birth's Office.

"Name of child?" the officer asked.

"We're calling him John! After me," he answered animatedly, "My wife thinks he's the splitting image of me, but I don't see it."

"Really" the officer yawned, "Date?"

"He has her eyes, cinnamon brown, and when he smiles, he's just like my wife's, except for the teeth," Harry raved on enthusiastically.

"Well you can't expect everything all at once," he remarked, obviously not impressed, "and what did you say the date was?"

"November the sixth," he told him, "Don't you want his weight?"

"No thank yo-"

"Eight pounds, three and a half ounces," he continued to brag proudly, "He's been gaining an ounce a day! It's remarkable!"

"Umhmm," The officer replied, not even bothering to look up, "Father's profession?"

"Writer. In a small way of course. Writer and parent," Harry chuckled, and added, "Parent in a big way!"

"That will be all" said the officer.

"All?" Harry looked at him, perplexed.

The officer glanced at him with a hint of finality, "Yes thank you."

"Oh but you could form only an inadequate picture of him from what I've giving you" he protested.

"Well, I'll have to struggle along," the officer responded sardonically.

"I'll bring him in person one of these days," Harry promised, completely oblivious to the man's disinterest, "Then you can see for yourself! Do I get a receipt?"

"You do," the officer handed him the slip.

"Thank you very much!" He exclaimed, grabbing onto the slip as if it were a precious jewel, "I'll bring him in one of these days!" he repeated before leaving.

Harry rode cheerfully back home on his bicycle, carrying a basket full of groceries.

"Nurse!" he announced loudly, "Here you are! I hope I haven't forgotten anything!" Harry handed her the basket before remember to whisper, "Is he asleep?"

"If he was, he isn't now" the nurse replied, taking the groceries and returning to the kitchen.

He tiptoed quietly into the bedroom. "Did I wake you?" he whispered into Hermione's ears, still in bed recovering from the birth.

"No." she smiled.

Harry took a peek in the cradle by the corner of the bedroom. "I've brought him a present. Look!" He proudly produced a tiny stuffed animal from his bag. "Think he'll like it?"

Hermione giggled as he placed the little toy beside his son. "Come here," she patted next to her on the bed.

Harry quickly made his way to her and sat down.

"I'm Mrs. Smith, remember me?" she teased playfully. He took the hint and kissed her, embracing her tightly.

"What's so wonderful about that fellow? He just eats and sleeps," she joked, "Much of the time he's not even friendly! Never occurred to you to buy me a present," She pouted her lips.

"Never!" he smiled and kissed her again, reaching for his coat pocket. He dangled a strand of tacky beads in front of her face.

"Oh Smithy!" Hermione cried out as she grabbed them.

"They're not very much," said Harry sheepishly.

"Oh I just adore them!" She told him sincerely, examining the necklace.

"They're just the color of your eyes," He gazed into them, enchanted since the first time he made contact with them, "You have an awfully nice color scheme darling."

The moment was interrupted by a family voice out in the living room.

"Is Mr. and Mrs. Smith here?" the voice asked.

"Yes," the nurse replied.

"Must be the vicar." Harry opened the bedroom door for him, "Hello vicar! Come on in!"

The vicar made his way over to the side of the bed. "How do you do Mrs. Smith?" he asked, shaking her hand.

"Very well vicar, thank you," Hermione replied.

"And how is the heir?" the vicar asked, referring to the baby.

"See for yourself!" said Harry, never missing the opportunity to show off his son.

The vicar smiled and stood up. He walked to the crib and looked inside, "Hello young fellow, he's quite a size isn't he?"

"Bigger and stronger than any baby twice his age!" Harry bragged.

Vicar laughed as he turned back to Harry and Hermione, "I was at the Owl post just now. I found Mrs. Woodbury in a great deal of excitement. There's been an extraordinary event. An Owlogram!"

"How very thrilling!" Hermione clapped her hands. "Who got it?"

The vicar handed Harry the letter, "You did!" he announced, "Probably somebody congratulating you on becoming a father!"

A surprised Harry opened the letter curiously and read it to himself.

Hermione watched his reaction to the letter, "Smithy! Aren't you ever going to tell me what's inside it?"

"I don't believe it!" he exclaimed breathlessly, "It's fantastic!"

"What darling?" she asked impatiently, "Please, I can't stand it another second!"

"It's from Liverpool," Harry answered, "From the editor of the Daily Prophet!"

"For Merlin's sake, read it out loud!" she egged him on.

Harry obliged, "Can you appear at the Daily Prophet office tomorrow morning, November 14th, regarding permanent position on paper? Samuel C. Hensen, Editor."

"Oh Smithy!" Hermione cheered, "How marvelous!"

"Marvelous? It's INCREDIBLE!" Harry corrected her with elation.

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That night…

"Goodness, you're a terrible packer," Hermione observed as she looked through the suitcase. It was the same one she had with her during her stage career. The outside was adorned with stickers from every town she's toured in. "Let me see, shirts, socks, tie," she rummaged through Harry's handiwork, "May I ask what you were going to sleep in?"

"Great Merlin! Have I forgotten the pajamas?" Harry jumped up to retrieve them.

"The cuffs are a bit frayed," Hermione noticed his only dress shirt, "But then again, I suppose Keats wasn't very dressy."

Smith returned with his pajamas and stuffed them inside before Hermione closed the suitcase.

"My, all these labels," he said, scanning the colorful decorations on the bag, "They'll think I'm a commercial traveler."

Hermione looked at him adoringly, "Are you excited?"

"Wildly! Just think what it means," he replied happily, "Starting life, a career, I'll be able to do things for you! Things I've always dreamed of."

Hermione frowned, "I wish I could come too."

"Yes, I've been thinking of that," He stated glumly, "If I do wait, he might change his mind," Harry caught the troubled look on her face, "Darling, you're not worrying about me are you? I'll be all right. I feel absolutely sure of myself," He said assuring her.

Hermione looked down, "I know, it's just---"

"Our first parting," He finished for her.

Hermione nodded, trying to hold back her tears, "When will you be back?"

"Tomorrow night, I'll be on the eight o clock train," answered Harry.

"Where will you stay?"

Harry tilted his head, "I haven't given any thought."

"The Great Northern isn't bad. It's about the best when it comes to of the cheap hotels, and it's near the station," she suggested, "Have you got your key?"

"Right here," he took the shiny object out of his inner pocket and showed it to her.

Suddenly, a faint honking noise invaded their ears from outside. "Must be the vicar," Harry said as he rose up from the bed, grabbing his suitcase. Placing the bag on the floor one more time, he said his farewells to Hermione, "Goodbye darling." He brought his lips upon hers and embraced her tightly.

The vicar sounded the horn again. Harry picked up his suitcase and walked over to the cradle where his son was sleeping. "Goodbye young fellow!" He leaned in and kissed the infant's forehead.

"Good bye, my darling" He called to Hermione by the doorway.

"Tomorrow night!" Hermione shouted back, "Good luck Smithy!"


	8. Liverpool

A/N: Okay, I feel I must bring up the way the muggle world and the wizarding world works in Random Harvest. Now, most of these things that have happened so far, the little details will be important in later chapters. I guess the best way to look at it is that this story takes place in the wizarding world, along with every character. I think this would better explain the celebrations and openness of the beginning chapters without having to worry about the secrecy of the muggle world. So think of Liverpool as a version of Diagon Alley in London.

Chapter Eight: Liverpool

The next morning, Harry walked out of the Great Northern hotel into the busy streets of Liverpool.

"Can you tell me sir," he asked the doorman, 'Where the Daily Prophet office is?"

"Second to your left sir, up George Street," the doorman told him.

"Thank you," said Harry

The doorman gestured his head towards the sky, "Taxi sir? Looks like rain," he suggested.

"No, thank you, I'll take the chance," he replied. Harry began making his way down the street when suddenly, out of nowhere, complete and torrential downpour. He stopped to put on his raincoat. With his hands stuffed into his pockets, he battled the forces of nature. After a block or so, he could hear the paperboy selling papers on the corner of the street.

"Paper! Paper! Daily Prophet!" he yelled out, "Ministry of Magic election results! Paper sir?" the paperboy called to Harry.

Harry's glasses kept fogging up from the rain, making it difficult for him to locate the source of his voice. After wiping his glasses again, he managed to spot the boy by the curb.

"This is George Street, is it?" Harry asked, "Where is the Daily Prophet office?"

"Right across the street, sir, he answered, pointing to the direction.

"Thank you," Harry replied and trotted down the street.

"Paper! Paper! Paper sir?" the paperboy resumed his work and handed a paper to an elderly man. Suddenly, the cars on the streets started to honk their horns furiously. As the man reached into his pocket to pay the boy, he casually glanced on the road to see what the commotion was about.

"WATCH OUT!" the elderly man shouted out in horror. The screeching of brakes could be heard everywhere as one of the cars crashed into the other. Soon a large crowd was gathering across the street. Everyone was looking at an unconscious Harry, lying on the side of the curb. The cab driver from the accident quickly got out of his car. Immediately, he and a few onlookers worked together and carried him into the nearest apothecary shop.

They took off his coat and placed him on the table. The owner of the shop quickly took some smelling salts to revive the stranger. Harry reacted and turned slightly.

"Look! He's coming around now," the shopkeeper observed.

Harry opened his eyes slowly.

"There we are. Feeling better?" he asked. "Ohh, you've got an unholy bump on your head. Looks worse than it is though," he assured him.

Feeling an unbelievable pain on his head, Harry gently touched the bump.

"You were lucky I'd say," said the shopkeeper, "Feel any pain?"

"My headache's a bit---" Harry muttered.

"Funny if it didn't," he replied, "That is quite a bump"

Harry looked down at his feet and saw his scuffed up footwear, "My shoes."

The owner smiled, "A good blacking is all they need, sir."

"What on earth?" A confused Harry examined his clothes, "This, this, is all wrong!" he cried, "I have no business to be in cities!"

"What should you be in?" the man asked him.

"In uniform of course!" Harry stated as if it were a matter of fact, "I'm on active service!" He surveyed the area around him, "Where the devil am I?"

"You're in Liverpool," he informed him.

"In Liverpool?" Harry replied, completely vexed.

"You've had a nasty shock," said the shopkeeper, "You better go somewhere and rest a while, try not to think about anything," he advised him.

A few moments later, a police officer entered the shop and marched towards them, "Is this the party of the accident?"

"Yes officer," answered the owner.

"It wasn't my fault officer," the driver, who had remained silent this whole time protested, "He slipped in the mud, right in front of me."

"Is this true?" the officer asked Harry.

"That's true, isn't it governor?" said the worried cabbie.

Harry touched his bump again, "I think so."

"What cabbie said is correct officer," the shopkeeper added, "I saw the whole thing from my window over there."

The officer proceeded to take out his notepad, "Can I have your name please sir?"

"Potter, Harry Potter."

"Potter," he repeated, jotting down the name, "Profession sir?"

"Auror."

"Address please?"

"Godric's Hollow, North London."

"You don't wish to lodge a complaint sir?"

"No, No thank you," Harry waved his hand, "I'm sure whatever happens was my fault."

The officer nodded, "Alright, thanks Mr. Potter." With that, he left the store.

"Thanks, governor," the driver said, relieved. He tipped his hat at them and left.

"A little dizzy still, but I'll manage it." Harry carefully stood up, "Apart from that, what do I owe you?" He asked as he puts on his coat.

"Oh, you never mind that," the owner told him.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to me call a cab?"

"No, no thank you. The air will brisk me up." Harry smiled. He glanced out the window, "By the way, would you mind telling me what day this is?" he asked.

"This is Thursday," he answered.

"Yes, Thursday," Harry said, trying not to sound too crazy, "But the date?"

"November 14th, 2004"

"Thank you," he told him gratefully, shaking his hand. He left the store and started walking down the street, trying to make sense of everything.

"2004. 2004," Harry dwelled in his head, "Three years gone, three years. The house, I remember, distinctly. Neville was killed, and young Creevey. But after that? What after that? Liverpool. What am I doing here? Where have I been? Better go home," he reasoned, nodding to himself, "Yes, may clear things up, better go home."

A/N: Please review. Harry finally gets is memory back. DUM DUM DUM! I had a bit of trouble locating where Godric's Hollow is. J.K Rowling wasn't too specific on that. If anyone knows, please help. I made a guess seeing how everything in England is either London or North of London, I picked the latter. Also, to stress the point again, Harry is not the famous boy who lived, so therefore, the incident in which his parents were killed when he was an infant didn't happen. Therefore, he never lived at the Dursleys. We will be seeing the appearance of the major characters soon.


	9. Godric's Hollow

A/N: Okay, a slight manipulation in regards to Godric's Hollow. Thank you, I have checked the Harry Potter Lexicon site but all they could verify is that Godric's Hollow is not in Wales. Also, I am aware that the Potter family lived in a cottage there, but for this story to work, I have changed the cottage into a rather large estate. After all, since his parents did indeed leave Harry with a fortune at Gringotts, it wouldn't be too unlikely.

Chapter Nine: Godric's Hollow

Harry decided to take the next train to Godric's Hollow. He needed the time to reflect. "How could I explain this to everyone back home? Three missing years..." he thought glumly.

It was late at night before the cab finally dropped him back to the estate. Rather than to disturb the whole household, he went straight to the servant's quarters.

One of the servant elves that Harry did not recognize answered the door. After introducing himself, the elf told him to wait outside while he cleared the matter with his superior. Harry was able to overhear the elf talking to Dolby on the downstairs telephone, "He said his name is Harry. Harry," he repeated, "I'm sorry Dolby, but that's what he said."

After a few moments, the elf got off the phone and went back to the door, "Dolby says he'll come straight down, sir. Step inside please and have a seat," he offered, "If you'll excuse me for taking precautions sir. Being late and all," he apologized.

"That's quite alright." Harry replied, having a seat on the chair. "Is Mr. Weasley at home do you know?" he asked.

"Yes sir" the elf hold him, "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, The twin Weasleys, Miss Weasley, Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin are all here."

"Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows, "Everything alright up at the house I hope?"

"Haven't you heard sir?" he asked, "Old Mr. Potter died Sunday. The funeral was today sir."

Harry lowered his head.

The elf looked at him curiously, "Was he a relative of yours sir?"

"He was my father." Harry shook his head grimly.

Lowering his head, the elf muttered, "I'm sorry," and left the room.

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The next morning, the Weasleys, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin gathered into the dining room for breakfast, discussing Dolby's surprising news of Harry's appearance last night.

"I don't feel very much like eating, but still," Lavender Weasley said, "I must say, I think it's most peculiar. Three years of complete silence and he suddenly comes back from the grave with this cock and bull story, and at the very moment, the will is to be read," she insinuated derisively, "Very conveniently if you ask me."

"My dear, you talk about my best friend as if he were a fraud." Ron retorted defensively.

"And who's to say he isn't?" she snapped.

"You seem to forget that Dolby's seen him," he said plainly.

"Yes, in the dark," Lavender argued, "Dolby was probably half asleep."

"Isn't this argument a waste of time?" Sirius interrupted the couple, "We should see for ourselves in a moment, and with all respect to Lavender, I think I should be able to recognize my own godson."

"Morning everybody," Ginny chirped loudly as she entered the dining room. "Where's Harry?" she inquired, looking around the room.

"Shhh!" Ron hushed, "He's not down yet. Besides, we're not all deaf you know."

"I'm sorry; I'm just dying to meet him," she said enthusiastically, lowering her voice, " It's all so romantic, like one of the thrillers at Flourish and Blotts. 'Back from the Dead' or 'The Case of the Disappearing Auror.'"

"Yes, or 'Three Years in Darkest Amnesia'" Lupin chimed in.

"Three years!" Ginny gasped "Think of it! Where do you suppose he's been all that time?"

'That's just been what I've been asking," Lavender added callously, "In Azkaban, for all we know. Didn't Dumbledore say positively that the will was writing ten years ago?"

"Yes, and I gathered the estate is divided equally among all of us." Ron informed them, "Except for the two business interests and this house, which naturally fall to Harry and me."

"Naturally," Sirius nodded.

Just then, Fred and George strolled into the dining room. "Morning everyone!" they said in unison. "I say, have you heard the news?" Fred asked.

A small muttering of yeses fills the room.

"With the hold of the various business interests," Ron continued, "I can say with optimism-"

"Merlin! Sausages!" George exclaimed, eying the plate of sausages on the table.

"But of course, if the whole thing is going to be treated as a joke---!" Ron rose from his seat, losing his temper.

"Sit down Ron!" Lavender commanded, "No joke to me! That is, supposing it really is Harry, who suddenly turns up like a, uhh, like a."

"Like a bad knut?" Harry finished for her.

The group turned around and froze, shock to see Harry standing by the doorway.

Ron ran over to meet his friend, "Harry! So delighted to see you!" he exclaimed as he embraced him.

"Welcome home Harry!" Sirius and Remus both cheered and approached him with a hug.

"So nice to see you again!" the twins said in unison.

"You remember Lavender," Ron turned to his wife and introduced her. She nodded and gave him a courteous how-do-you-do.

"And I'm Ginny," she announced eagerly before anyone could introduce her. "I'm Ron's younger sister."

"Well, how do you do Ginny?" Harry shook her hand politely, "Now please, sit down, all of you, I'm afraid I'm upsetting your breakfast."

"Here's a chair! Next to mine!" In a flash, Ginny grabbed him by the arm and lead him to his seat, "What can I get you?"

"Now now." Harry protested, chuckling at her eagerness, "You go on with your breakfast, and I'll vouch for myself." He helped himself to one of the sausages on the table.

"Go ahead, my dear boy," said Sirius, "We're all absolutely delighted to see you back!"

"By the way, my dear fellow," Ron informed him, "Dumbledore's reading the will today. Its ten years old, so you won't be done out of your share, which includes the house I understand."

"Really," he replied, taking a bite of his breakfast.

The room became quiet. Harry looked around the table to see everyone staring at him, Ginny being especially attentive. He sighed, "Well, I'm sure you're all waiting for some sort of explanation, but I really haven't got one. That's what lost of memory does to you, " he explained, "Dolby's told you all I know. I was in Liverpool yesterday morning. Why or how, I have no idea. I've been knocked down by a taxi and came to in an apothecary's shoppe. Before that, I can't remember a thing. Last thing I remember was our division enclosing in at the Riddle house, and that was three years ago. Those three years have been a complete blank to me. I don't know what I've done, or where I've been. I found a little money in my pocket, and this key." He took the shining object out and showed it to them.

"The key to your house?" Ginny suggested.

"Ah, if I knew that, I would know where I belong." Harry replied without taking his eye off the key.

"You belong here Harry." she assured him sagely.

"Yes? Ah, yes, of course, this house." Harry looked up at the ceiling. "Well, I hope you all come to think of it as home, come whenever you like, stay as long as you care to."

"I shall come." Ginny told him happily, "Often. I'm awfully glad you're my brother's best friend."

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After breakfast, all of the guests started to leave. Harry stayed by the door to wish them farewell while the house elves loaded the cars.

"Harry! Take care, old chap!" Fred shook his hand.

"Goodbye!" George waved as the twins stepped in the car.

"Hey Harry!" Ginny rushed out towards him, "I've come to say goodbye."

Lupin and Sirius followed soon after. "Goodbye Harry! We are all so relieved to see you back." Lupin told him again before getting into his own car.

"We must get together this week," Sirius added, getting into the passenger side, "I'll give you a ring later on. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Harry called back to them as their car drove off.

"Let's sit down, shall we?" Ginny suggested, glad to finally have some alone time with Harry. She tugged his arm over to the bench nearby. "Ron and Lavender are always late," she giggled. "Aren't you going to be terribly lonely all by yourself in this big house?"

"Perhaps," he answered, "Why?"

"Only, when people are lonely," Ginny explained, blushing, "they are rather apt to marry the first woman who comes along. It doesn't do you know."

"Oh it doesn't eh?" Harry chuckled.

"Never," Ginny stated as a matter of fact.

"Not once in all your years of experience?" He posed sarcastically.

"Well, I'm only a year behind you."

"I'll keep you in mind," he said amusingly.

"Will you?" Her eyes shone with a glimmer of hope. "I know you're laughing at me, but please don't do anything rash in the mean time because," she took a breath, "because, well, I do like you, awfully, from the very first moment I saw you."

"Well, I'll have to think it over." Harry smiled.

"I've said it, and I mean it." Ginny continued, "Anyways, don't you think I can come over during the holidays? To take care of you of course."

"Ginny!" Ron called out before Harry had a chance to answer.

"Here I am!" she yelled back. She turned back to Harry, "You'll write to me of course?

"Oh alright," Harry hesitated for a moment, "If you want me to."

Ron and Lavender finally made their way out of the house. Lavender politely forced a smile as Ron shook Harry's hand once more, "I'm so glad you're back!"

"Come along Ginny." Ron opened the car door for the girls.

"Bye Harry!" said Ginny excitedly, before getting into the car, "Thanks for asking me to visit you during the holidays."

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That evening, Harry paced back and forth holding his key in the den when Dolby walked in.

"Will you be dining at home sir?" Dolby asked.

"Yes."

"Alone sir?"

"Yes," Harry responded, "There's no one else is there?"

"Well, I thought you might like to ask Dumbledore to join you," suggested the elf.

"No Dolby," he shook his head, "Thank you."

"I'm afraid you'll be very lonely in this great house sir," Dolby pointed out ,"May I ask, sir, have you any plans for the future?"

"No, but I might go back to school. I never got my degree you know." Harry thought aloud, "I might take a fling at writing. I always wanted to do that if you remember." He crossed over to his father's portrait above the fireplace. "I wonder what he would have liked me to do."

"I think he always wanted you to carry on where the Potter's left off sir," Dolby answered plainly.

"Well, Ron is the head of the Potter's Conglomerate now." Harry reminded him, "In any care, I'm not a business man."

"Have you ever tried sir?"

"No." he muttered, "not really."

Harry felt the key in his pocket once more, lost in his thoughts, "I wonder what I was doing in Liverpool."


	10. Ginny's Letters

Chapter Ten - Ginny's Letters

Three years have past since Harry Potter returned to his home at Godric's Hollow. Ginny was sitting in her room putting on the finishing touches to her letter. She re-reads it to herself again:

Dear Harry,

So you've left school finally and gone into the business. What a shame. I know you hated to leave your books, and that quiet corner of the river, which you have traded in for that corporate office downtown. Lavender simply says you're a wizard at it, if you would pardon the pun. We're all going to be rich again. Write to me soon.

Love, Ginny

Another letter soon followed.

Dear Harry,

I'm sending you a recent photograph of me. Will you put me on your desk in the study? And please, look at me sometimes.

Love, Ginny

And finally,

My Dearest Harry,

Just to remind you, I'm growing up. I have lots of beaus. I do hope you're jealous. By the way, I saw your picture on the Daily Prophet the other day. Industrial Prince of England, Mr. Harry Potter.

Love, Ginny

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Harry Potter returned to his office after an early session meeting with his executives. After closing the door, he turned around and found Ginny sitting at his desk.

"Hello nuisance," he greeted her teasingly, "Merlin!" said Harry as he noticed how she's changed since the last time they met.

Ginny, no longer sporting the outfit of the adolescent generation, was dressed in a simple black dress with her red hair shorten and curled to frame her face.

"You like it?" she asked, fishing for a compliment.

"My dear, you look adorable," Harry said sincerely.

Ginny smiled, pleased with the comment, "Well, then adore me."

He tilted his head, "Haven't I seen that hairstyle before?"

"It's not a bad style is it?" she brushed the loose strands her hair in from her face.

"It's a lovely style." Harry agreed.

"Good, then it will be a lovely lunch!" Ginny declared, seizing the opportunity.

"No, my dear, I can't possibly afford the time," he went around is desk and scooted Ginny off his chair.

"Yes, you can!" She argued, "Ms. Hansen said so. She says it'll do you good to get out of this stuffy office for an hour or two."

"Or two?" Harry pressed the intercom, "Ms. Hansen."

"Yes, Mr. Potter," responded the intercom.

"Due to the unaccountable weakness of character, I'm having lunch with Ms. Weasley," he said, "With your approval I understand."

"I definitively approve," there was a slight hint of humor in her voice.

"Oh you do?" Harry asked as if she were the boss and he a lowly assistant.

"I do." Ms. Hansen answered promptly.

"Uh, would you get me a copy of the Brown Severing Prospectus while I'm out?" he added with his manner more businesslike now.

"Yes I will."

"And have I any appointments for 2:00?"

"Yes."

"Can you postpone them?"

"Yes, I can."

"Thank you," Harry switched the intercom off.

"Alright young woman," he focused his attention back to Ginny, "I can give you precisely one hour and a half from door to door."

"Oh no," she protested, pouting her lips, "Ms. Hansen says TWO hours."

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They walked to a nearby café a block away from the office. Lunch consisted of mostly small talk, with Ginny leading the conversation.

"You're being very charming today," she observed, "You haven't looked at your watch one."

"Oh, that reminds me," said Harry, glancing at his pocket watch.

"Oh Harry, please!" she pleaded, "Can't you relax for an hour? You used to say you hated business."

"Oh did I?"

"You know you did," Ginny recalled, "Said you were just going to help Ron whip things into shape and then get out quickly."

"That was the original idea," Harry told her, "Save the family business and then get out before they needed more saving."

"In that slow and careful way of yours?" she asked.

"I began to look into things, yes," he explained, "I found that the Potters kept other families going too, little families in little homes, all over England."

"I see, Atlas Potter eh?" Ginny giggled, "But don't you ever want to get out and have fun?"

A voice from behind intruded on their conversation, "Thanks my dear fellow, But I've got another case, I have to look into."

Harry ignored it. "Well, see Ginny, the last time---"he started to say.

"It's that woman you sent me, Lady Maxine, one of the most interesting cases I have since I have been in private practice." Dr. Krum said, in deep conversation with the couple at next table.

Harry turned his head and shot a glance at him, his face full of concentration.

"Goodbye sir." Dr. Krum bowed slightly, "Goodbye, Laura, and don't forget you're dining with me on Thursday." He turned away and walked off.

Harry followed him with his eyes until he was out of sight. He focused back at the table, silent and still, with a confused expression.

"What is it?" Ginny noticed his change in behavior.

"Oh I beg your pardon, it was nothing," Harry assured, "It's just for a moment, that voice..."

"Sounds familiar?" she asked.

"No, not that exactly," he paused, still in thought, "It seems to remind me of something, something that I didn't have time to get a grip on. That happens to me sometimes," he explained, "Sort of wisps of memory that can't be caught before it fades away."

"From those lost years?" Ginny added.

"Perhaps," he apologized for the interruption, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"That you should take a holiday" she advised him, "Merlin knows you have enough money."

"Money yes, but not the time," Harry shook his head.

"Oh that's nonsense, you can make the time," Ginny argued.

Harry sipped his tea quietly as Ginny gazed his actions intently. "You're awfully nice looking Harry," she blushed.

"Thank you," Harry gave her an awkward smile.

"Clever, interesting," she stared down at the table and muttered, "It's not fair."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you spoil me for other men," she answered frankly as Harry avoided her gaze, "It's no secret is it? I've always been mad about you. Might be fun if you love me now." Ginny took a breath, "We're a lot alike you know. We laugh at the same things. We have marvelous times together," she stated, "Sometimes I wonder why you don't."

"In my slow and careful way," Harry admitted, still looking away, "I wonder sometimes too."

"Why don't you?" Ginny pleaded, "Just to be curious."

"I haven't said that I don't," he replied, finally meeting her gaze.

"Oh no!" Ginny cried, pleasantly surprised.

"Would it be too incredible?" he asked tentatively.

"It would be fantastic!" she told him gleefully, "I don't believe it. I don't believe you mean it. That you go on meaning it. I shall wake up and find this all a dream, it isn't real at all. Then you do want me?" Ginny grabbed his hand on the table.

"Darling, you're very sweet and dear to me," said Harry, "I'm building a great hope on you."

"I don't believe any word of it," Ginny's heart leaped, "I shall go to your office tomorrow and find you have forgotten all about it."

"I'll have Ms. Hansen remind me," he assured her with a grin.

"Harry, darling! It's too wonderful!" She exclaimed, unable to control her tears, "Take me out of here, take me out of here and kiss me!"

Please, read and review. Remember, this is definitely NOT a Harry/Ginny fic at ALL.


	11. The Office

A/N: Here we are, thanks for all the reviews so far. Chapter 11 up! Hope you're all enjoying this so far. Please Review!

Chapter Eleven: The Office

After leaving Ginny, Harry returned to his office bearing a slight grin on his face. Mechanically, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled a shiny object that was attached to his chain and started to feel it through his fingers. The mysterious key was kept in his pocket at all times now. On occasion, he would repeat the same ritual over and over again whenever he felt stressed.

The intercom began to ring as he sat down behind his desk. Still deep in thought, he lets it ring a few times before finally switching it on.

"Mr. Potter," the intercom said, "May I bring the---"

"Oh yes, Ms. Hansen, I'm sorry, please bring it in," he replied, placing the key back into this pocket.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a familiar woman with brown hair and cinnamon eyes carried the requested portfolio into his Harry's office. She sat down on the chair beside his desk and handed him the portfolio.

Harry opened the folder and analyzed its contents. "I scribbled a note here, would you take care of it?" He said, passing her a sheet of parchment without looking up. "And this," he added, handing her another sheet, "Where is the prospectus for the year?"

"They promise it would be here at 4:00," his secretary informed him, " I'll send it in as soon as it arrives."

"Ah" he sighed, "You saw the offer from Harvard and Williams?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"You worked for Harvard and Williams once I believe?" he recalled, "They're driving a hard bargain. Do you think they're bluffing?"

"I think not," she shook her head, "I used to know Mr. Williams pretty well. I was his secretary."

"Yes," Harry chuckled, "I remember he was quite annoyed when you came to me. Called me a pirate."

"Oh that was not fair," she smiled, "It was really all my doing."

"Indeed?"

"I heard Ms. Parvati was leaving you and I made up my mind to apply for the position."

Harry looked up at her curiously, "May I ask why?"

She paused before answering, "A few weeks ago, I came across a picture of you in the Daily Prophet. Underneath it said, 'Industrial Prince of England."

"Dear me!" Harry chortled.

"I was impressed," she continued, "I decided then and there I must leave Harvard and Williams to better myself."

He smiled gratefully at her, "Well I'm sincerely glad you did, Ms. Hansen. You make things a great deal easy for me," He returned his focus on his desk and began to examine another stack of papers from the portfolio. "What's all this?"

"Oh that's the report of their firm in the Midlands," she told him, "the Melbridge cable company," she pronounced the world 'Melbridge' very slowly, keeping her eyes on his reaction.

"Uh huh," Harry merely nodded, still staring intently at the papers before him, "Oh yes, Mr. Weasley thinks this would be a very valuable subsidiary."

"I have a large file, photographs of the works," she added, "Would you care to see it?"

"Please, yes," he said.

The secretary made her way through the door into her adjoining office. Sitting down at her own desk, she switched on her own intercom, "Bring the Melbridge Cable Company reports Penelope," she requested.

"Yes Ms. Hansen," the voice on the other end answered. While she was waiting by her desk for the file, the phone started to ring.

She quickly picked it up, "Hello? Yes I did Mr. Wood; can you make it 4:30 this afternoon? That would be splendid. He's very busy. Thank you" and hangs up.

A few moments later, her assistant returned with the file in hand. "Thank you Penelope," she stood up and made her way back into Harry's office. She returned to her seat, putting the file in front of him. She observed closely as Harry started to inspect the pictures inside.

"Their equipment seems up to date," he noticed as he shuffled through the pictures, "And they seem to have plenty of space."

"It does seem worth investigating," she suggested.

"I'll get Ron to run down," said Harry, "I'm taking a long holiday."

"Are you?" She replied in a casual tone, "At once?"

"In about a month or so," he answered.

She forced a smile, "Why, I think that's a very good idea."

"Well I may be gone a year"," Harry added, "If things could be arranged."

"A year?"

"If it's humanly possible," he paused for a moment before announcing, "I'm being married, Ms. Hansen. You're the first to hear my news," he told her happily, "But I'm afraid it'll mean a lot of extra work for you. Putting things in order so that I can get away."

"Its Ms. Weasley, I suppose?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, its Ginny," Harry laughed, "Was it so obvious?"

"Oh not at all," her tone was slightly higher than usual, "She's a very charming girl,"

"Yes I fully agree," Harry nodded, "But I hope you won't take it into your head to follow my example Ms. Hansen," he added, smiling sincerely at his secretary, "I don't know what I should do without you."

"I had been married, Mr. Potter," she told him, analyzing him for some hint of recognition, "You may remember I told you when I took the position."

"Oh yes, to be sure. It slipped my memory," Harry replied, avoiding her gaze, "You had a child I believe."

"Yes. A little boy," she confirmed sadly, "He died."

"Oh yes," feeling awkward, he looked down at his desk, "I'm sorry." Silence soon settled in. Harry reached over to the side of the desk and grabbed another sheet of parchment. "You'll see that Mr. Weasley gets this will you?" he handed it to her, trying to change the subject, "And I'll let him have the file later."

The secretary nodded in a trance-like state, staring straight ahead. Suddenly the loud ringing of the office telephone snapped her out of it.

"Hello?" she picked up the phone and answered, "Yes. Yes, Ms. Weasley, he's here." She hastily handed him the phone before getting up, "Ms. Weasley."

"Hello? Oh definitely!" She heard Harry say, "You want me to confirm it in writing? Absurd young person."

DUM DUM DUM..the plot thickens.


	12. Hope

Chapter Twelve: Hope

"Hermione, don't!" Dr. Krum pleaded. She had shown up at his office in tears.

"Viktor, let me tell him!" Hermione snapped.

"That you are his wife?"

"Yes!" her bloodshot eyes were determined.

Dr. Krum's face softened, "You can risk it if you wish," he told her, "I hope you won't"

"What do I risk?" she paused, looking down on the floor, "Now"

"What do you want with him Mione?" he asked, "His name? His protection?"

" I want him as he was," she heaved a tired sigh, "I want his love."

"Hermione," he tried to reason, "eight months ago, you walked into his office. If the sight of you did nothing to restore his memory, what can words do?"

Hermione turned away as he continued, "When you came to me at Melbridge shortly after he disappeared, I told you I was sure he didn't desert you knowingly," he recalled, "I told you, 'a door in his mind had opened, but another had closed.' I warned you even that if, IF you found him, that chances were, he wouldn't recognize you."

"You gave me a hope!" Hermione interrupted.

"There's always a hope," said Krum, "But the evidence must come from within. It can't be forced on him from outside," he explained, "You can tell him the truth and claim your legal rights, but what is going to be his attitude when a strange woman appears and suddenly claims to be his wife?"

Hermione thought about the scenario aloud, "He'd resent me. He'd accept me. He'd pity me…and he'd resent me," she admitted.

"I can only offer you a frail hope," Krum added, "That miracles would happen, and he'll come back to you, not as Harry Potter, Industrial Prince, but as----what was it you use to call him?"

"Smithy," she sniffed.

"As Smithy," he repeated, "with all his emotions for you as warm and intact as it was on the day he left you."

Hermione started to tear up again, "Doesn't much help to me Viktor is it? I'm real! These tears are real!" she dabbed her face with her handkerchief, "and my jealousy is real. And my need of him-" she choked up, unable to continue.

"Mione," he touched her shoulder gently, "I wish I could help you."

Hermione placed her hand on his in appreciation. Silently she stood up and walked heading towards the door.

"What will you do?" Krum asked, worried.

"I don't know, I'll have to think it out," she answered, glancing at her watch, "You go to your dinner."

He cuts in front of her before she reached the door, "I'll call it off, if you'll dine with me."

"No, don't do that," Hermione smiled, gratefully grabbing his hand, "Dear Viktor, always firm, but kind. Thank you for the hope."

"It is rather nice of me," he shrugged, "Seeing that it robs me of mine."

She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Good night Viktor."

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A few days after her talk with Krum, Hermione finally made a firm decision.

"The law is quite clear on that point, Mrs. Smith," the barrister informed her, "If it is proved that for a period for not less than seven years, no news of a person has been received by those who would naturally hear of him if he were alive, then he may be legally presumed dead. You wish me to take the necessary steps?"

Hermione nodded, "Please."

"Now, to complete the particulars," he said as he filled out the form, "Did you procure a search?"

"Yes," she answered, "We've investigated accidents that had occurred on that day."

"Without result?" he asked.

"Yes. Then I became seriously ill," she explained, her hands anxiously squeezing her gloves, "I was ill for many months. The baby died. As soon as I could get about, I made some efforts to return to the stage, but without success. I worked as a waitress, a saleswoman, I studied stenography at night school, spent everything I could spare to find a trace of my husband. I thought he might have been taken to the hospital, perhaps even an asylum. But months past, and I found no trace of him."

"Are you employed at the present?" asked the barrister.

"Yes," Hermione told him, straightening up from her seat, "For the last eight months, I worked as private secretary."

"To whom?"

She replied, "To Mr. Harry Potter."

A few weeks later, Hermione appeared with her barrister again to meet with the Judge. As he spoke, she sat completely still with her face devoid of emotion.

"I've studied your petition, Mrs. Smith, and the affidavit's attached," the Judge read aloud, "In regards to the evidence presented, I have entered the decree to the effect that the man known as John Smith shall be presumed to be dead, and your marriage to him, consequentially dissolved."

Sorry, I know this chapter was pretty short, but quite important don't you think? Read and Review!


	13. Back to Liverpool

Chapter Thirteen: A Return to Liverpool

Harry and Ginny had been spending a lot more time with each other since their faithful lunch meeting. They were busy preparing for the wedding. Ron and Lavender stayed as Harry's guests at his estate to help the couple.

Ginny and Harry were just returning from one of their afternoon strolls. "Hello you two! I wish you'd remember that you're getting married on Wednesday!" Lavender yelled from the porch, "Poor Mr. Flitwick has been waiting in the chapel for ages!"

"Oh dear! How dreadful of me, I forgot!" Ginny exclaimed, "He wanted us to choose the hymns for our wedding."

"We'll go straight down," Harry replied, "Back in a few minutes!"

They made their way into the chapel down located down the street. The church was a grand gothic looking edifice complete with high ceiling colored windows and an enormous organ by the altar.

Wasting no time, Mr. Flitwick began playing on the organ with Ginny beside him, suggesting songs. Harry, who was indifferent when it comes to music, stood on the other side of the altar, watching them amusingly.

The sound emitting from the organ echoed throughout the entire building. "That's nice," said Ginny after he had played one of the pieces, "I forget the words."

Mr. Flitwick played again, this time singing along, "Come down O love divine, this is-"

"Yes, I remember now," Ginny interrupted, changing her mind. "Then there's another lovely one, the one they always use."

"This perhaps," Flitwick suggested as he began to play, "O Perfect Love."

Upon hearing the eerie familiar tune, Harry stopped smiling. His look of amusement was replaced with a vexed complexion. He turned away and stared out the window. His mind occupied in remembering something, but he couldn't grasp it, and that was making him very anxious.

"Yes, that's it," Ginny said satisfied, still concentrating on Mr. Flitwick, "I like that, don't you Harry?" she turned around and noticed Harry looking intensely out the window. Ginny walked over to him and puts her arms around him. She smiled, waiting for him to meet her gaze.

Harry subconsciously felt her close proximity and looked at her, with the same confusing facial expression. He did not meet her gaze, but instead stared directly passed her. Ginny frowned. Unable to control herself, she quickly moved down the aisle and sat down on a nearby pew. There, she burst into tears.

Ginny's cries broke Harry's trance. He snapped out of his trance and followed her down the aisle.

"I'm sorry darling," he apologized profusely as he sat next to her, "I must have been dreaming."

"It's alright Harry," Ginny cried out, her hands covering her face, "I'm glad this happened."

"What has happened?" Harry asked.

Ginny took her hands off her face and gazed into his eyes, "I've been uncertain, almost from the beginning," she said between sobs, "Now I'm sure. Its no use is it?" she shook her head, "I've always known it, really. I was grasping selfishly at my own happiness, because you could make me completely happy. If I were selfish enough not to care, and if I were stupid enough not to know-"

"To know what?" he asked.

"I'm not the one," she admitted aloud, " Let's be honest about it. I was letting things drift. I never believed in my own luck," she wiped her face, "Harry, you looked at me just now, as if I were a stranger, an intrusive stranger, trying to take the place of someone else."

"Someone else?" he repeated.

"I know it sounds absurd, but let me say it," she confessed, "Sometimes, especially when we've been closest, I had a curious feeling I remind you of someone else, someone you once knew-"

"Don't leave me Ginny," Harry pleaded, "I need you! I'm trying to make a life."

"Someone you love," she continued as if he hadn't said a word, "and shall never love me," she grabbed his hand, "I am nearly the one Harry," she forced a smile, "So nearly, that I shall always be proud of it. But nearly isn't enough for a lifetime. It'll be too hard to- " she lowered her head.

Harry was speechless. All he could do was pat her back gently. He was unable to say that Ginny was absolutely wrong. He just didn't know what to do.

After a few seconds of silence, she took a deep breath, composed herself and stood up, "I've left you rather late have I? I'm sorry," she apologized, looking away, "I think I'll travel. My parents are going to visit Charlie in Romania I believe. I'll go with them," she gave Harry a genuine smile, "Alright Harry," she patted him gently on the arm, "I asked for it, and I'll get over it."

"I don't know what to say," he squeaked.

"You don't have to say anything. Because I am so nearly the one," she said, "and because I love you more than anyone I shall ever marry. Just kiss me goodbye."

Harry stood up, embracing her one last time as they shared their farewell kiss.

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Few hours later at the office.

"Well he can't keep us up indefinitely!" Ron exclaimed, pacing back and forth in front of Hermione's desk, "Where the devil is he? No normal man walks out of a big concern without saying a word to solitary soul!"

"Everything was arranged for his trip," Hermione informed him, "Could he have gone abroad?"

"Well he would have let us known!" Ron said furiously, "Confound that girl! One minute they were both picking out hymns for the wedding-"

"Mr. Weasley," an assistant interrupted as he walked in.

"What is it now?" he bellowed, obviously not in the best of moods.

"I'm sorry sir, but it seems to be important," the assistant told him, "It's Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic."

"Alright, I'll see him," Ron grunted, "You talk to Dolby," he instructed Hermione before walking out.

She turned to the house elf standing by the corner of the room, "Dolby, when did you say you last saw Mr. Potter?"

"Just before dinner time Miss, about an hour after Ms. Weasley left," he told her, "He asked me to put some things into a bag for him. I don't know quite why Miss, but I sort of think he may have gone to Liverpool."

"Liverpool?" Hermione perked up.

"Yes Miss, it was from Liverpool he came that night," he explained, " the night he came back from the dead, so to speak."

"Dolby," she asked, "Please try to tell me everything you remember about that night. What did he tell you about what had happened to him?"

"Well Miss," Dolby relayed the entire story, "It was a wet night. In November it was. He was knocked down by a taxi, and carried into a shop in Liverpool---"

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It wasn't until nightfall before Hermione was able to locate Harry. She rapped on the door of his hotel room in Liverpool.

"Come in," she heard him say. Slowly, she opened the door and entered. The room was very dimmed.

"Please forgive me for coming," she apologized, "we were all so anxious." Hermione noticed the dark circles under his eyes, "You are not well."

"I should've let you know where I was," said Harry, "I intended to, I'm sorry."

"I hate to bother you, but something's very important came up," she informed him.

Harry looked at her curiously, "But how did you know I was in Liverpool?"

"Something Dolby said," she answered simply, "I made inquiries."

"Dolby, yes," he muttered. "Would you sit down Ms. Hansen?" He walked over to the nearby table and turned on the lamp, "You say some important business induced you to follow me?" he asked.

"Yes," Hermione explained, "Bartemius Crouch, Head of International Cooperation died on Monday morning, there'll be a bi-election." She took out an official looking letter from her purse, "This morning, the committee of the West Lyndon Liberal Association unanimously decided to support your candidacy, should you consent to stand in the liberal interest."

But Harry's mind was clearly someplace else. "Did Dolby tell you of my experience here three years ago?" he asked, without acknowledging a word she just said.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," she nodded.

"I came back here at that time, hoping to stumble on the trail of my past," he explained, "But I failed then and I failed now."

"Nothing helped you?" she asked.

"Nothing," he sighed, "Why should I feel a lost so acute and-"

"That's its spoiling your life?" she finished for him.

"No!" he cried, "I'm not being honest with myself! My life's not complete and I've hurt others!" Harry seemed to realize how absurd it was to rant to his secretary. He lowered his voice; "I don't know why I bore you with my affairs."

"You feel that perhaps you lived in Liverpool?" she inquired, completely interested.

"It seems possible," he shrugged.

"But not certain?"

"You mean I might have been visiting the city?" asked Harry.

Hermione pointed out, "Well, Liverpool's a big port."

"I might have come in on some ship!" he exclaimed, "Strange that never occurred to me!" He walked to the window and looked at the streets below.

"Or by train," she suggested, "You might have come in from a nearby town or from the country. Perhaps on business"

"Perhaps," Harry nodded, thinking over the possibilities.

"In that case you may have stayed in some hotel." She added, "I know Liverpool, I've been up here often." She walks over to him, "Do you know in what direction you were walking when the accident happened?"

"I checked that," he replied glumly, "I was walking down George's street towards the square. It was wet."

"Well, there are two hotels north of George's street," Hermione told him, "The old Olympic, and" she paused for a moment, "and the Great Northern." She stared at him for any signs of recognition, "It's quite a distance from the Olympic, and if it was wet, chances are, you were coming from the Great Northern," she reasoned.

"Presuming I stayed at a hotel at all," he asked, "Under what name was I registered?"

"There's just one chance to find out," she told him, "If you were at a hotel, you walked out leaving unclaimed luggage."

Harry looked up, "Would they keep it so long?"

"It's worth investigating," she advised him.

"Yes" he agreed, now feeling excited, "I'm glad you came, Ms. Hansen. You've given me fresh hope. You must come with me. We'll start with the Great Northern!"


	14. New Responsibilities

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I hope you like this chapter, we're getting down to the wire folks!

Chapter 14: New Responsibilities

Hermione smiled to herself as she followed Harry out the door of his hotel room. For once she was starting to believe that Harry would finally move a step forward to the road of recovery.

That night, they made their way to the Great Northern hotel. After explaining the entire story to the management, they were lead to a small room in the back of the desk where many lost and found items had accumulated through time. The manager seeped through various small bags and purses, until he finally came upon a small luggage adorned with various labels on the outside. On the handle, a faded luggage tag, the words "John Smith, Room 202, Suitcase Unclaimed" were scrawled in with fine black ink. The man presented them with the bag and left them alone in the room

Harry opened the bag curiously and started rummaging through its contents. He picked up the worn, wrinkled dress shirt and examined it carefully. After a few frustrating minutes, he tossed it back down. "Would you be kind enough to tell the manager that this suitcase is of no interest to me, and I'm sorry to trouble him," he told Hermione disappointedly without looking up. He slammed the suitcase closed, "John Smith" he read the tag, unimpressed, "A highly unimaginative incognito. What can be more anonymous than these poor rags?"

"Nothing seems familiar to you?" Hermione opened the suitcase back up.

"No," Harry answered, shaking his head, "There's a finality about that most unrewarding find, like a door slammed and bolted," he started pacing about the room, "Now I shall learn to accept myself for what I am: psychologically defective, as Ginny saw me, as you must see me," he chuckled weakly, "You must keep my secret Ms. Hansen."

Harry grabbed his coat and headed for the door, "Will you send an owl to the West Lyndon Liberal Association telling them I'll receive the committee tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter" Hermione replied, her eyes still lingering on the suitcase.

He looked at his watch; "There's an express to London at 8:15."

"I've made reservations," she said, watching him with leave the room. Hermione turned to the suitcase, unable to hold her tears back. She cried softly as she held tightly onto the frayed sleeves of Smithy's dress shirt.

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Months went by after that fruitless search. Harry decided that the best thing to do is to put it all behind him by diving himself into as much work as he could endure. After meeting with the West Lyndon Liberal Association, he accepted the nomination for the candidacy into the Ministry of Magic. Hermione, as his secretary, supported and organized his campaign. All their work was paid off at the end of the election, which resulted in Harry's victory.

After Harry's first oration at the Ministry's meeting, he dashed over to meet Hermione at the little café down the street.

He spotted her sitting in one of the tables on the corner sipping on her tea, "Have I kept you waiting? I was delayed" he said as he sat down, "Nice of you to come down to my debut. Was I satisfactory?"

"Oh very," Hermione smiled.

"Oh waiter," Harry flagged down, "Tea, please. What would you like?" he asked Hermione, "Cake? Sandwiches? Bring an assortment," he ordered the waiter without waiting for her answer. The waiter bowed politely and went to retrieve their order.

"Thank you," she said.

"By the way, I haven't really thanked you for your help in the campaign," Harry told her gratefully, "I don't know what I should have done without you."

"I thoroughly enjoyed it," said Hermione sincerely, "Politics interest me."

"Do they?" Harry said. Without realizing, he gazed at her very intently, "I'm…um…glad of that," he replied, obviously distracted.

After a few moments of silence, she gave him an odd look, "You're staring at me you know."

"Oh," her words broke Harry's concentration, "I'm sorry. It struck me. Your hair casts a brilliant cinnamon brown in the sunshine."

"Is that all?" said Hermione, staring right back at him, "You were looking so intense."

"Oh, everyone has these feelings of having lived through certain moments before," he explained.

"You mean you have the feeling that you've known me before?" she asked, placing her elbows on the table.

"I had for a moment," Harry confessed, "As a matter a fact, I felt it quite strongly the first day you came into my office."

Hermione perked up, "You didn't show it."

"No."

"Is that why you hired me?" she asked.

"Perhaps, but it was also your air of acquired efficiency," he replied, "Forgive me, but is there any possible way you might marry again?"

Hermione shook her head, taking a sip of her tea, "Not the slightest."

"I'm asking you because I have a proposal to make," Harry told her, "I need your help with my political career."

She avoided his gaze, "Social secretary?"

"Well, not exactly," he took a deep breath, "You know, it seemed quite a reasonable idea when it came to me. But now, I'm rather losing my nerve."

"Why?" Hermione asked, "Is it so startling?"

"It may sound outrageous to you," Harry warned her, "But it's not a sudden impulse. I've thought it over very carefully," he assured. "You and I are in the same boat, Ms Hansen," he explained, "We're both ghost ridden, sounds a bit dramatic, but I think it expresses it. We are prisoners of our own past."

"Yes," she replied, still confused.

"What if we were able to pool our loneliness," he suggested, "and give each other what little we have to give, support, friendship?" he took another deep breath, "I'm proposing marriage, Ms Hansen." Harry looked down at the table and chuckled awkwardly, "or should I call it a merger? You know I'm good at mergers," he continued, "A member of the Council should have a wife, Ms Hansen, so I am told from all sides. He needs a clever hostess. You have exceptional gifts. Would it interest you to have a wider field for them? You need to have no fear that I would make any emotional demands upon you. I have only sincere friendship to offer. I won't ask any more from you."

Hermione was about open her mouth to speak when Harry interrupted, "Please, don't answer at once. Think it over. It's completely a selfish proposal. But I can't have you giving me notice you know. I'd be lost without you."

Unable to control herself, she took out a handkerchief started to wipe away the tears that were falling from her face.

"Ms Hansen, Margaret," Harry said, concerned, "Have I hurt you?"

"I don't know, I-" she dabbed her eyes, "I always boasted that I never cried."

"You will think about it?" he asked. Hermione nodded her head. "I'll call you tomorrow," said Harry, "No, I can't wait so long, tonight, about nine? I hope the answer is yes."

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That night Hermione invited Krum to her flat to tell him about the proposal.

"It was a very flattering proposal really," she said, a hint disparagement in her voice as she filled their drinks, "Rather a suggestion for a merger. He used that very expression."

"Pretty cold blooded, isn't it?" Krum replied.

"Well, it's honest," she sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said, sympathizing, "Sorry for myself too. I want you to be happy Mione."

"It may work out," Hermione said unconvincingly, "He might even fall in love with me. Would that be so very extraordinary?"

"It would be extraordinary if he didn't," he said sincerely, "But the situation is very extraordinary. Seems rather hard what I'm going to say. But, if you do marry him, keep to his terms,' he instructed.

She nodded in agreement, "I suppose you're right."

"And you love him?" asked Krum.

"Yes."

"You're going to be hurt Mione," he warned solemnly.

The ringing of her telephone interrupted their conversation. Hermione glanced at her watch. Before she answered, she looked up at her friend and pleaded, "Viktor, please don't be against it."

She picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she answered, "Yes Mr. Potter. Harry. You're early. Its yes, Harry."


	15. Married Life

Chapter Fifteen: Married Life

And so, Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Margaret Hansen were married. For months, they've kept on their charade of their original agreement in front of the entire wizarding community. Hermione would organize and accompany Harry to all social events. To make it look more convincing moved into the estate and occupied Harry's adjoining bedroom. Only Dolby knew of their arrangement.

Her "air of acquired efficiency" impressed everyone in their social circle. No one knew the wiser. Many were intrigued and gossiped about the loving couple.

"Isn't that Mrs. Harry Potter who gives those political dinners?" a lady asked her friend as she spotted them on the opposite balcony of the theatre.

"They say he'll be in the British Seat of the International Confederation of Wizards next year," her friend informed her.

"Pity there's no children," she remarked, "Such a wonderful couple. I hear he's devoted to her."

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Next May arrived, and in honor of the Minister of Magic of his re-election, Harry and Hermione decided to host a party at their estate in Godric's Hollow. With her exceptional social and organization skills, the party became a huge success.

"Well it's really amazing! She's gotten him to dance," a guest commented as they watched Hermione glide Cornelius Fudge across the dance floor.

"She's gotten him to smile too!" another guest observed, "That woman's a marvel!"

After all the guests had left, Harry and Hermione, exhausted, retreated back to their rooms. Dolby opened the door for them.

"Good night Dolby, and thank you." Hermione said, walking into the room, "You've managed everything beautifully."

"Thank you," Dolby replied.

Harry followed her into the room, "Yes, thank you very much, Dolby."

"Good night," said the elf and took his leave.

"Well, you certainly mellowed the old gentleman," Harry said happily, "He was positively purring when I put him to his car."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, turning on a lamp, "I think he really enjoyed himself."

"I know I did," he added.

"Oh nonsense," she laughed, looking at the clock, "Oh good heavens! Its already three o'clock and you have two committees tomorrow."

"Today," Harry corrected her with a yawn.

"Yes, that's true. It's nearly morning," she said.

"Morning of May the 25th," he informed her, "Does that suggest something to you?

"It's the anniversary of our wedding," she quickly answered.

Harry nodded, "Will you wait just a moment? You don't look the least bit tired." He walked into his bedroom and returned, holding a small jewelry box. "All my gratitude goes into this Margaret," he handed it to her; "I owe you more than I could put into words."

Hermione opened the box and gasped. In it, was a large emerald necklace surrounded by little precious stones. "Oh it's too beautiful! Really, you spoil me," she examined it on her hand.

"The emerald is said to have belong to the Empress Marie Louis." Harry told her.

"Really? Why it's thrilling!" Hermione forced a smile and handed it to him, "Will you put it in on for me?"

Harry obliged and clasped the necklace gently behind her neck. She examined herself in the mirror before turning to him, "There. How do you like it?"

He studied her a moment, "You know, you're a very beautiful woman."

"Thank you," she replied, "I rather hoped you thought that."

Harry sensed her uneasiness, "Margaret, are you happy?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Seeds of conscience," he muttered, "If I hadn't interfered with your life- "

"I should have never been Mrs. Harry Potter," Hermione interrupted, "Entertained the Minister of Magic. Worn a queen's emerald." She looked off.

"Is it enough?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps not," she admitted softly, avoiding his gaze.

"Is there someone else?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, finally looking him in the eye, "Harry, why are you asking me?"

"Because if there were," he said nervously, "I often wanted to say this, I wouldn't hold you to our bargain. I haven't the right."

"Trying to get rid of me Harry?" she asked, with a tone higher than usual, desperately trying to make her voice sound playful.

"You know I'd be utterly lost without you," he assured her.

"I'm glad to hear that because I like my job," she chuckled uneasily, "A woman told me tonight that she envied me more than anyone she knew." She turned away, "She envied my husband. Most women do."

Suppressing her tears, she said, "Now I really am tired." She grabbed her purse and swiftly moved past him towards the door of her room, "Good night Harry, and thank you for the wonderful present."

"Good night, Margaret," Harry called out with a worrying expression.

As soon as the door was closed, Hermione started to cry. She went over by the dresser and sat down. She took out her jewelry box and grabbed the top tray to replace the earrings she wore for the night. As she placed them on the tray, Hermione gazed down at the jewelry box which stored the tacky beads Harry had given her that night he went to Liverpool. She picked them up and held them to her chest, "Smithy!" she cried.

Suddenly, there was a knock. Startled, Hermione stood up, wiping her tears away. Harry, face full of concern, opened the door, "Margaret, I'm afraid I said something to hurt you."

"No, Harry," she frowned, sitting back down.

He went over to her side, "If I expressed myself clumsily-"

"It's nothing really," she interjected, "Its just nerves."

Harry stared at her unconvinced, "I wish you'd be frank with me."

Hermione looked at the beads in her hands, "Do you?" she whispered.

He sat down next to her. He noticed the necklace wrapped around her hand, "Were those a gift?"

"Yes," she replied, still staring at the necklace, "I came across them quite by chance. They're just cheap little beads."

"But they have a value for you that this does not?" Harry eyed the emerald around her neck.

"He said they were the color of my eyes," Hermione sniffed, holding the necklace next her head; "They are, aren't they?"

"Oh Margaret, isn't there something morbid in burying one's heart with the dead?"

"That's a strange thing for you to say," she replied.

"Really?"

"You haven't even a memory."

"No," he said, turning away.

"But the best of you," she continued, "Your capacity for loving, joy in living is buried in the little space of time you forgot."

"It isn't quite the same thing," he retorted.

"Why not?"

"Because, in some vague way, I still have-"

"Hope?" Hermione finished for him.

"Yes, I suppose that's it," Harry sighed.

"Have you Harry? You feel though, there really is someone?" she asked. "Someday you may find her?"

"I rather not talk of it Margaret," he replied, shaking his head, "It's nothing I can put into words."

"But doesn't it frighten you sometimes?" she continued, "That the years are passing? That you may sometimes find that you've lost your capacity for happiness?" Hermione stared at him intensely, "You may have come so near her. Maybe brushed by her in the street."

"Yes, I thought of that," he replied, avoiding her gaze.

"You might have even met her Harry, and not known her," she eluded, "It might be someone you know. Harry, it might even be me." She waited for his reaction.

"Oh Margaret," he chuckled awkwardly.

Hermione stood up and walked over to her dressing table, "Oh now, I'm talking wildly," her voice trembling, "It's after 3 o clock and I'm tired."

"Yes," Harry took his cue and got up. Putting her earrings back, she went over by her bed, her back facing him, "Harry, I sometimes thought I'd like to travel. I feel like I need a change and some rest."

"To travel?" he repeated.

"Yes, I've never been out of England," she told him, "I like to go to Buenos Aires, or Rio, or somewhere colorful and attractive."

"Perhaps when the committees adjourn-" Harry started to say.

"Oh I don't want to drag you away," she added quickly, "Ill take a house elf, or a friend perhaps."

Harry moved over by her and touched her shoulder, "Margaret, I believe you want to get away from me."

"Oh no." Hermione explained, "Just that, it's a bit strained. I'm just a nobody you know. Been harder than I thought, being the wife of Harry Potter."

"If you wish, of course," he said, "You are a little overtired I think. Shall we talk about it in the morning?"

"In the morning, yes" she agreed.

"Good night Margaret."

"Good night Harry."

As soon as the door closed, Hermione broke down crying.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of Random Harvest!


	16. Reunited

A/N: Here we are! The final chapter to Random Harvest. Hope you review! I highly recommend you renting the movie although I've pretty much ruined the entire movie for you. Definitely check out Greer Garson, the queen of MGM during the 1940s. I will probably be writing another fic based upon, Pride and Prejudice with Laurence Olivier. It's an okay book, but I think an even better movie.

Chapter 16: Reunited

The following week, all the arrangements were made for Hermione's trip. Harry escorted her to the train station. They walked side by side, silently.

"I think this is my compartment," Hermione peeked in to check, "Yes, it is," she confirmed, turning back to Harry who is looking obviously disdained.

"I hope Ron has made everything smooth for you," he said, looking down at his feet.

"Yes, he's been very helpful," she looked around, "He should be here any moment with my letter of credit."

"You only have two days in the country?" Harry asked.

"Yes, my boat sails on Wednesday."

"It's on your way," he inquired, "This place?"

"No, it's in Devon," she informed him, "A quiet little old village, a delightful old inn, I want to see it again."

"Oh?" Harry looked up.

"I was once very happy there," Hermione told him casually.

The first whistle blew as a red-haired man ran up to them.

"I'm glad I'm not late," Ron puffed, taking a minute to breathe. "I made you out an itinerary Hermione," he retrieved an envelope from the inside pocket of his robe, "Thought you could study it on the ship."

"Oh how kind of you," Hermione thanked him graciously.

"Oh," he handed her another envelope, "Here is your letter of credit. And some books for you to read." He held up the stack of books he was carrying, "I'll put these in the compartment." He went in to drop them off, "I think you'll find everything in order. I hope you have a wonderful trip."

"Thank you," Hermione shook his hand.

"Don't stay away too long," he added with a grin.

"If I do, I'll blame your excellent arrangements," she smiled back, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Ron turned to Harry, "I'll wait for you, I have a letter from Mr. Wood." He moved over by the corner so his friend could say goodbye properly.

A second whistle blew. Hermione glanced over at the conductor and then back at Harry.

"Well," she gave an awkward smile, "Goodbye Harry." She started to turn into her compartment.

"Margaret," Harry called, "I wish you weren't going," he confessed sadly, "I don't feel quite happy about it. You'll let me hear from you?"

"Of course," Hermione answered, trying to hide the uneasiness in her voice.

"Goodbye," he moved closer and gave her a hug. Hermione closed her eyes, hugging him back, wishing the moment would never end. Feeling the oncoming of tears, she quickly lets go and went straight into her compartment.

Harry closed the door for her as they hear the final whistle.

"You going to the house?" Hermione asked him from the window.

"No, to the office, there's some trouble," he answered. The train started to move, "Seems strange not to talk it over with you Margaret!" he called out to her. He stared at the moving train.

Ron came up behind him, "This strike, Harry. Its pretty serious."

"Strike?" Harry said, still not taking his eyes off the train.

"At the Melbridge Cable Works," Ron clarified for him, "The men are out of hand."

"Melbridge, yes, yes, of course," Harry replied, with his mind elsewhere.

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The next day, Harry and Ron arrived at Melbridge to absolve the strike. After a few hours of negotiations, the strike reached an end.

"It's alright men!" the worker representative announced from the factory balcony to the employees waiting outside, "The strike is settled and we've won!"

"Hurray!" Everyone cheered, throwing their hats celebratory in the air.

"Thanks to one man, Mr. Harry Potter!" the representative proclaimed as Harry walked out to the balcony and waved at the crowd. The crowd went wild.

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Harry and Ron made their way down from the factory and walked into town. Everyone outside was in an uproar, thankful of the strike being over. As they walked, everyone cheered at them and patted them on the back. A sense of unexplained feeling déjà vu fell upon Harry as he nodded back politely in acknowledgement.

"Look at the backstreets we came through," Ron observed, seeing the crowded roads, "Here, lets pop in there to get a drink," he suggested, pointing at the Melbridge Arms. As they entered the pub, the people inside greeted them with cheers. Everyone holding up a mug toasted them in their honor. They headed straight to the bar and sat down.

"Thank you kindly sir," the man sitting next to Harry smiled, "We appreciated it."

"Thank you," Harry answered politely.

The barkeep turned around and spotted the two, "What will you have gents?"

"Two firewhiskeys please," Ron orders.

"Two firewhiskeys sir, coming right up," the barkeep quickly filled their shots and presented them, "Here we are."

Ron looked behind the bartender and noticed a life size statue of a boxer standing in the corner, "Is that the proprietor?" he joked.

The bartender turned around to see what he was pointing to, "Yes sir, that's Tom, he's ain't much like that now," he answered, "That's him at the end." The bartender pointed to a rather stout and bald looking man behind the counter busy entertaining the customers with a story.

Harry and Ron looked at the man amusingly.

"He was a gentleman the gunner was! Can't compare with the heavy weights today!" Tom continued, "Why he could have two of them for breakfast! And-"

"Well, we better not lose our train," Harry glanced at his watch, "We better go."

They down their drinks swiftly, paid and went back out into the streets.

"Fog is getting thicker," Ron observed as they stroll down the street.

"Yes, beastly," Harry agreed as he felt around his pockets, "Cigarettes?"

"No, sorry, I don't smoke," he replied.

"Of course not," he realized, shaking his head, "Never mind, there's a little tobacconist just around the corner." Harry walked on ahead as a puzzled expression fell on Ron's face.

The bell rang as they entered the shop. Harry took out his wallet as they waited by the counter. An elderly woman peeked through the window from the back before walking out to greet them.

"Well?" she asked, as rudely as she had always been these past years.

"A box of Blue Ribbons please," Harry told her, setting his money down on the counter.

The woman retrieved the pack of cigarettes and placed it before him. "Thank you sir," she said, picking up the coins.

"Thank you," Harry grabbed the box.

"Good night sir," said the woman.

"Good night," he called back as Ron held the door for him.

They made their way down the street again. "I thought you said you never been in Melbridge," Ron mentioned.

"I haven't," he replied, lighting his cigarette.

"But you said, there's a little tobacconist just around the corner," he pointed out.

"Hmm?" Harry looked at him, not seeing what he's getting at.

"You said there's a little tobacconist just around the corner," he repeated again.

Harry tilted his head curiously, "I said that?"

Ron nodded, "That shop was off the main street. You couldn't have seen it on your way from the station."

They stop walking. "No." Harry agreed, thinking it over.

"Then, how did you know of it?" Ron asked.

"I-I don't know, I-" Harry replied, ransacking his brain for answers. They moved over to the side of the street.

"You went straight to it," Ron observed.

"I did know!" Harry realized, "But I don't know how!" His eyes scanned the area before him, "Melbridge...Melbridge," he repeated.

"What's the matter?" asked Ron.

"Melbridge," Harry repeated again.

"Are you ill?" he suggested, looking a little worried, "Let me get a cab."

"No, no, let me think. There's something. That shop!" Harry stared back at its direction, "That woman!" He concentrated harder.

Ron was starting to get even more concerned. He spotted a cab in the street, "There's a taxi, I'll get it." He went off after it.

Harry turned away from the street and leaned against the side railing. He studied his surroundings again. The same feeling of déjà vu swept through him. The cab suddenly pulled up behind him.

"Here you are," Ron grabbed him by the arm.

Harry turned to the driver of the cab, "Where is... the hospital?"

"You mean the old one or the new one sir?" the driver asked.

"The old one, I think," Harry thought for a moment, "It's on a hill. Big gates. High wall all around it."

"That don't much sound like either of them," he said, "You wouldn't be meaning the asylum would you sir?"

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Harry and Ron had the driver take them up to the asylum. They stepped out in front of the huge iron gate of the Melbridge County Asylum. The fog was incredibly thick.

"Let's see," Ron said, helping his friend to remember, "You say you came out of these gates."

"Yes, I'm sure of that. There was some excitement," Harry recalled, "and a great deal of noise."

"Then let's start from here, and try to retrace your steps," Ron pointed to the stone path, "You must have gone into town."

"Yes," said Harry, "I've been to that shop."

"Perhaps as we go, you can piece the thing together," Ron suggested.

"Yes, that's right. That's a good idea," Harry agreed as they started slowly down the road, "I came along this path."

"You remember that?"

"Yes I think so. There was a good deal of fog. People shouting," Harry continued, "Sound of- I was trying to get away from something. There was some danger. I was afraid." He focused, "There was a girl. There was a girl!" he repeated, "Yes, there was a girl!"

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Hermione was staring out of the window at the inn. "The mist is lifting," she observed.

"Yes," commented the young innkeeper behind the counter, "it looks as if it will be a nice day after all."

Hermione went toward the desk, "Binky, could you take the luggage to the station and wait for me there?" she asked the house elf, "I have lots of time. I think I like to walk."

"Right you are madam," Binky picked up the bags, "I'll wait for you by the newsstand."

"You're leaving us now?" the innkeeper asked, "I do hope you'll come and see us again."

Hermione took the letter of credit from her purse and handed it to her, "Not very soon, I'm afraid. I'm sailing for South America at two o clock."

"You are? My! I envy you," the girl replied, "Are you sure you prefer to walk to the station?"

"Yes. Such a pretty walk," Hermione remarked, "I used to live here you know, during Mrs. Devanter's time. Did you know her?"

"Not very well," the innkeeper answered as she finished putting the paperwork in order, "She died three years ago."

"Yes," Hermione nodded sadly, "That's what Binky was telling me."

"She was quite a character, Mrs. Devanter," said the girl, "Lots of people ask after her. There was a gentleman in here a few minutes ago asking after Mrs. Devanter and the old vicar."

"Really?" Hermione stuffed the letter of credit back into her purse, "I should be going, I don't want to have to hurry. Goodbye Ms. Johnson and thank you."

"Goodbye," she smiled, "I'm sure you'll have a wonderful trip."

"Thank you," Hermione replied as she headed for the door. She stopped abruptly midway and turned back to the counter, "Did you say a gentleman was asking for Mrs. Devanter?"

"Oh yes Miss," the innkeeper confirmed, "and the old vicar. That's Mr. Durham, you know, he lives at Seven Oaks. Mr. Cosgrove is our vicar now."

"Is the gentleman staying here?" she asked.

"Oh no. He was looking for a cottage. Said he used to rent one here, oh years ago. He remembered it was near the church," the innkeeper informed her, "Was he a friend of yours Miss?"

Hermione eyes widen as she listened. She uttered a small, "Excuse me," before walking out the door. She made her way quickly down the road towards the cottage.

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Harry stood before a small cottage surrounded by a white picket fence. He gently unlatched the door. The hinge squeaked, as it swung open. He stood there for a moment before moving towards the house. He pushed away the overgrown branch that was blocking his way. Harry looked up at the tree and studied it for a while. Turning back to the house, he walked to the door. Harry pulled out his key. "The moment of truth," he thought. The key fitted perfectly into the lock. He turned it slowly, and the door swung wide open.

Hermione trotted her way up to the fence. An overwhelming sense of happiness swept over her at the sight of Harry looking into their cottage. Hermione smiled. "Smithy!" she called to him.

Harry startled, gradually turned around.

"Oh Smithy!" Hermione cried out again.

He saw her standing behind the fence. His confused look slowly replaced by an expression of familiarity.

"Oh Darling," she sniffed.

Harry stared at her for a while and grinned.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed, raced over to her with open arms and kissed her passionately. Tears of joy came out of Hermione's eyes finally being able to realize what she wanted for so long.

As they gazed adoringly into each other's eyes, Harry embraced her, swearing to never letting her go.

"I love you so much, Mione," he whispered.

"I love you too, Harry," Hermione laughed, "My Smithy!"

Harry brought his lips upon hers once again, for they have both found that the seeds of love are deeply rooted in Random Harvest.

Hope you all have enjoyed the story!


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